Return to Harper's Island
by Joseph Haney
Summary: What starts out as a simple rescue mission soon turns into a fight for their lives. Sequal to the show. Full summary inside. Rated T for safety
1. The Dreams

* * *

Summary: It has been three years since the massacre on Harper's Island. The island is abandoned, as the island's economy took a nosedive after the killings. Rumors of sightings of John Wakefield and other ghosts abound, as do rumors of disappearances on or near the island. When Abby, now living back in LA, learns that Jimmy has disappeared and may be on the island, she heads for Seattle and, along with Shea Allen, enlists the help of Aaron Thomas, a local fisherman with his own ties to the island, and some other locals to find him. What they discover on the island is that some evil does not die easily. And that love can be found where you least expect it.

* * *

_Chapter 1_

_She was running through the woods to the marina. She needed to meet the chopper to the mainland. She needed to escape from him._

_The marina was in sight. The chopper was just setting down. She tried to run the last few yards, but she was knee deep in syrup. She could barely move. It became increasingly harder to make each step. If she didn't make that chopper, he would find her and kill her. She needed to get away. She needed to get away from him._

_When she reached the Marina, she lost her footing and fell. When she looked up the chopper was taking off. "Wait," she cried, getting up. "Wait for me!" The words seemed to echo around her. The pilot didn't seem to hear her or see her. He just kept climbing higher and higher. She continued to call out until the chopper was out of sight._

_She fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands, crying. She was trapped. There was no way out. He would find her, and he would kill her. _

_When she finally looked up, there he was standing at the end of the dock. John Wakefield. He stared at her. She stared at him. He slowly raised the boarding knife and pointed it at her. She watched as blood dripped off of it. The blood of her friends. Their eyes met. She could see the anger in them. Then he spoke. The same word. "Soon." Only the voice wasn't Wakefield's. It was Henry Dunn's._

Abby Mills sat up in bed, breathing heavily. She had had that same dream every night for nearly a year. Jimmy Mance had been a terrific support through those first nights after the nightmare had first appeared. Now, though, he was three months into a six month job on a fishing schooner. He was out at sea and wouldn't be home until it was over. She had received a few letters postmarked from various cities and towns along the west coast. The last one was dated one month ago and was from Seattle.

As the dreams continued, she had gone to see a psychiatrist who turned out to be no help at all. Her only suggestion was that Abby return to Harper's Island to confront her demons. She had walked out of the session, but not before letting the doctor know exactly how she felt with some carefully selected four letter words.

Abby went to the bathroom and washed her face. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she couldn't help but smile a little at her disheveled appearance. _Abby Mills, you look like hell_, she thought. She then turned and walked back into the bedroom. She got back into bed and soon fell asleep. This time, however, the dream was different.

_She was standing in the lobby of the Candlewick Inn. It hadn't changed much since she had been there last, except for the layer of dust that now covered everything. As she looked around, she noticed that there was a key missing from the rack behind the front desk—the key to room 209. _

_As she climbed the stairs to the second floor, a mixture of dread and anticipation filled her. It continued to grow as she approached the room—the one where she had stayed the last time she was here, the one where she watched John Wakefield murder her father. _

_She saw the key in the door from halfway down the hall. When she reached it, she started to knock, but then thought better of it. Instead she reached for the knob. As soon as her hand was on it a woman from inside the room said, "Come in, Abby."_

_She hesitated. The voice sounded very familiar, but she couldn't place it, perhaps because it was muffled by the door. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and pushed the door open. From the doorway, she couldn't see any one. She slowly stepped into the room and turned the corner and saw no one sitting on the bed. Confused, she took a quick look in the bathroom, and saw no one there either. _

_Looking back into the room, she saw a note lying on the pillow nearest her. She slowly walked toward it and picked it up. When she unfolded it, something fell out. She bent down and picked it up. It was a picture of Jimmy and her in Chinatown that they had taken two days before Jimmy had left. In a panic, she looked at the note. It said:_

_I have him. Come get him_

_J.W._

_She gasped. _This can't be happening,_ she thought. _He's dead. I saw Henry stab him._ A hand on her shoulder made her turn around. Trish Wellington was standing there, wearing the wedding dress she had died in. "We need your help Abby," she said._

"_I can't," Abby said, backing away._

"_You have to," said another voice, a young man's, from behind her. She turned and was face to face with Sully. "You're the only one who can save us."_

"_You're dead," Abby said, looking from Sully to Trish. "I can't help you."_

"_Save him, Abby" Trish said in a soft voice, pleading. "Save Jimmy. Save us."_

With a start the dream ended. Abby sat up in bed, sweat dripping off her forehead. The sun had just started coming up. In an hour she would need to go to work, but right now her heart wasn't in it. The dream had shaken her up pretty good. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them.

It was then that she noticed the paper in her hand. It was folded like the note in her dream. She opened it and a photograph fell out. It landed right-side up and her breath froze. It was the picture from her dream. She quickly opened the note—and dropped it on the bed when she saw it was also from her dream. She jumped out of her bed and stared at the note and the picture.

_What the hell is going on?_ she thought.


	2. The Second Disappearance

"And at three," Diane Walters said, "you have the quarterly board meeting."

"Again?" Shea Allen asked. "Didn't I already have one of those?"

"That was last quarter, ma'am."

"Oh. Right," Shea said. "Keep going Diane. What else do I have tomorrow?"

"Just to pick Madison up from camp."

"Thank you, Diane. That'll be all for now."

"Yes, ma'am," Diane said as she turned to leave. Shea leaned back in her chair and covered her eyes. Halfway towards the door, Diane paused and turned around. "Ma'am, you look beat. Would you like me to bring you some coffee?"

Shea sat up. "No, thank you, Diane." The other woman nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

Shea leaned back in her chair again. It had been a long day. _Hell_, she thought, _it's been a long three years_. When she and Madison returned from Harper's Island, they were hounded by reporters looking for a scoop. They stalked her and her daughter for months afterwards. She had tolerated it until they started harassing Madison at school. It hadn't taken long for the reporters to get the hint, especially when she threatened lawsuits on anyone else who asked her or her daughter anything about Harper's Island.

After that, life had more or less gotten back to normal. At the behest of the company's attorney, Shea had taken her father's place in the real estate business in Seattle and was managing it as best she could. She had a number of her father's accountants, attorneys, and employees helping her learn the ins and outs of the business, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was just a show-piece—the last of the Wellington line heading the family business. She had even been given her father's private office. She hadn't yet decided what she was going to do with the business when she died, but she wasn't going to leave it to Madison, unless her daughter really wanted it.

Thank God for Diane. If she hadn't agreed to stay on as her secretary, Shea would have really been up a creek. Between taking care of Madison and trying to run the business, she was barely able to keep track of all of the events going on in her life. That's where Diane came in. Besides being her secretary at the office, she also acted as Shea's personal secretary, keeping track of all of her appointments, both personal and professional.

The phone rang, stirring Shea from all these thoughts. She reached over and pushed the speaker button. "Hello?"

"Sorry to disturb you ma'am," Diane said from the other end of the line, her voice echoing throughout the empty office. "There's an Abby Mills here to see you. She doesn't have an appointment, but she insists that it's urgent."

Shea sat up straight. She hadn't seen Abby since that last day on Harper's Island. Not in person, anyway. She had seen a picture of Abby and Jimmy Mance when they were rescued, nearly a week after she had been informed of their deaths. Shea had been shocked to learn of Henry's involvement and equally shocked that he had personally murdered her entire family. She had thought she had put it behind her, but now it all came flooding back.

"Ma'am?" Diane's voice said over the phone. "Do you want me to send her away?"

"No," Shea said, finally finding her voice. "Send her in."

A minute later, the door opened and Abby Mills stepped into the office. She was wearing the exact same outfit she was wearing that day on the island, with a leather bag over her shoulder. Out of instinct, Shea stood and said, "Close the door." Abby complied and then turned back to face the other woman. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Shea said, "What brings you to Seattle?"

"I need help," Abby said, walking towards Shea, "and I didn't know who else to turn to." She reached into the bag and pulled out an envelope. "A week ago, I had a dream about the Island."

"Abby, I'm not a psychiatrist," Shea said, walking around to the front of the desk. "Besides, you're not the only one having nightmares. Madison and I have been having them, too."

Abby waved her hand to dismiss this. "This dream wasn't like that. I was in the Candlewick, room 209. I found a note on the pillow of the bed." She held up the envelope. "This note."

Shea raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I picked up this note in my dream, and when I woke up, it was in my hand, in my apartment in L.A."

Shea took the envelope, opened it and read the note. Her eyes opened wide as she looked back up at Abby. "Who is 'him'?" she asked.

"Jimmy," Abby said. "He got a job on a fishing schooner a few months ago. The last I heard from him was a letter from Seattle, just over a month ago. I've been trying to call him since that letter came, but I can't get in touch with him."

"Well if he's out at sea, he probably doesn't have any cell service."

"There's more," Abby said, reaching into her bag again. "This was with the note, both in the dream and in my apartment." She pulled out a photograph and handed it to Shea. "It was taken two days before he left on the schooner. Somehow, Wakefield has him."

"Slow down, Abby," Shea said. "This has to be a sick prank. Wakefield is dead. They identified his body for Christ's sake."

Abby sank into the nearest chair. "I'm sorry," she said. "I guess I'm getting a little paranoid. You're probably right. It probably is a prank."

Shea smiled. "It's ok. If something like this had happened concerning Madison, I'd probably get a little paranoid, too." Their eyes met and they smiled.

"I'm sorry I bothered you with this," Abby said. "I'll head back to L.A. in the morning."

"Can you stay another day? Madison is away at camp right now, but I'm picking her up tomorrow. I'm sure she'd love to see you."

"Sure. I took a week off of work, so I could spare another day or two."

"Good. You can stay with us." She grabbed a post-it note off of her desk and wrote an address on it. "I have a meeting with an important client this afternoon, but I'll call you a cab. This is the address. I'll call ahead to tell Mrs. Mullen to expect you. I'll be home in time for dinner."

"Thank you," Abby said, standing. She followed Shea out of the office.

"Diane," Shea said as they exited the office, "call a cab for Miss Mills, would you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Diane said reaching for the phone. While she was waiting for someone to answer, she picked up an envelope that was lying on the desk in front of her and handed it to Shea. "This came while you were in with Miss Mills. I didn't think you wanted to be disturbed."

Shea took the envelope and studied it. It was addressed to her at the office, but there was no return address. It was postmarked from Seattle, though.

"Open it," Abby said. She had moved over by Shea and read the envelope over her shoulder. Slowly, Shea opened it and pulled out the folded note inside. She unfolded it—and gasped. Abby's breath got caught in her throat as well. The only words on the paper were:

I have her. Come get her.

J.W.

Shea quickly grabbed the envelope and opened it again. She pulled out a picture and gasped.

"Is something wrong?" Diane asked.

Shea looked up. Fighting to keep her voice steady, she said, "Call Madison's camp and confirm the pickup time for tomorrow."

Diane looked from Shea to Abby and back again. Then she quickly grabbed the phone and dialed.

While they waited for Diane to complete the call, Abby took the photo from Shea and looked at it. It was a picture of Madison in a canoe on a lake, grinning from ear to ear. Abby looked at Shea, who had moved over to one of the waiting area chairs, where she sat, staring straight ahead, tears in her eyes. "Shea?" she said softly.

Without looking at her, Shea said, "Madison e-mailed me that picture last week. She wanted me to see what a great time she was having." She turned to Abby. "This was the first time she's been away from home since we got back from the island. My God, what have I done?"

Abby place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Shea, whatever is going on here is not your fault."

Before Shea could answer, Diane hung up the phone. "Mrs. Allen," she said. The two women hurried over to her desk. "I spoke to the camp director," She said, sounding very confused. "She said Madison was picked up rather suddenly last week. By her father."


	3. The Fishermen

"Good haul today, Aaron?"

Twenty-eight year old Aaron Thomas looked up from tying the fishing boat, _The Last Chance_, to the dock. "Not really, Leon," he said to the old man standing over him. "The fish just aren't biting like they used to." He brushed some of his black hair out of his eyes and went back to tying up the boat. He needed to finish before the sun went completely down.

"Maybe tomorrow your luck will change, eh?" Leon Nowicki, the dock owner (a man who looked, sounded and even limped like Walter Brennan), said with a smile.

"I doubt it," Theresa James, the blonde-haired owner of the boat, said as she hopped onto the dock. At twenty-three, she was every bit as avid a fisherman as her father had been. "Three years of just barely scraping by isn't going to change overnight."

"Well, T.J.," Aaron said as he stood, "you could always quit and go back to school."

"Right, and leave Dad's boat in your hands?" she said, playfully punching him in the arm. "I don't think so."

Aaron smiled. "I didn't think so. Now help unload the boat."

"Yes, boss," she said with a mock salute. She then turned and climbed back onto the boat for the fish they had caught that day. Leon chuckled as he turned and began to limp back down the dock.

The last few years had been rough on Aaron and Theresa. Aaron, an orphan, had been a fisherman in Seattle Washington, all of his life. He had learned the trade first from his adopted father, Jacob "J.T." Thomas, who drowned in a storm while returning from a fishing trip. After that, Simon James, Theresa's father, and a close family friend, took over his education. He was already teaching Michael, Theresa's older brother and, despite his wife's protests, Theresa. Theresa had gone to college after she graduated high school, but had returned after a year because Simon and Michael had been washed overboard in a storm off the coast of Harper's Island, a small island nearly forty miles north of Seattle. Their bodies were never found. That was four years ago, and the picking had been getting steadily worse each year. It was getting so that they could barely afford to pay the bills. To make matters worse for Theresa, her mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer, and she didn't have any health insurance. If they had another year like this one, they might have to look for other jobs.

"So what are you doing tonight?" Aaron asked as they carried the buckets of fish towards Leon's store.

"I'm going to hit the Eagle's Nest and maybe hook up with a sailor," Theresa said with a grin. "And you?"

"I don't know. I've got a book at home I've been meaning to finish, so I might to do that."

"Another book? Are you planning on storing an entire library up there?" she asked, taking a playful swipe at his head.

"Come on, Teej," Aaron said, ducking under her arm, which wasn't easy since he was about five inches taller than she was. "I like reading. Is that a crime?"

"No, but I bet it's why you can't get laid."

Now it was Aaron's turn to take a swipe at Theresa. She easily sidestepped and burst into a fit of laughter. Despite himself, Aaron began laughing too. "Oh, you are going to get it now," he said as Theresa took off down the dock, labored by the buckets of fish she was carrying. Aaron took off after her. By the time they reached Leon's store, they were laughing hysterically and gasping for breath. Leon opened the door for them.

"Will you two keep it down!?" the old man squawked as they pushed past him. "You're goin' to wake up the entire harbor caterwallin' like that."

"Aw, lay off Leon," Theresa said, between breaths. "We were just having a little fun."

"Besides," Aaron added with a grin, "if anyone is asleep at this hour they deserve to be woken up, sleeping the night away like that."

"Well, I reckon you're right. But when you wake them up, I'm the one that they'll blame for it. So just keep it down, alright?"

"Alright, Leon," Aaron said. "For you we'll keep it down. Now we've got some business to complete, so can we please get on with it?"

"He's in a hurry," Theresa said. "He's got a date tonight. A real page turner."

"Another book, eh?" Leon asked, grinning as he moved around behind the counter.

"Yes, another book," Aaron said, looking sharply from Theresa to Leon. "What do you two have against books?"

"Nothing," Theresa said. "But when they keep you from having any sort of social life, they aren't that great. Why don't you come with me tonight? A few drinks wouldn't hurt you, and you might even meet a nice girl to go with them."

"It sounds like a good idea to me, Aaron," Leon said. "Why don't you go?"

Aaron considered it for a moment before saying, "Well, I guess I am overdue for a night of debauchery. Ring 'em up, Leon. I'd like to take a shower before I go out."

"That's the spirit," Theresa said with a grin, slapping him on the shoulder. They completed their business and were ready to walk out the door when Leon said, "Oh, Aaron, I almost forgot. There were two women in here earlier asking for you."

"Asking for me?" Aaron said, confused.

"Why, you devil," Theresa said with a grin, punching him in the arm. "You've been holding out on me."

Ignoring this, Aaron said, "What were their names, Leon?"

"Well, I don't recall. But they left a business card fer ya."

"Wait, they were both in here together?" Theresa said, her grin growing to that of a Cheshire Cat. Leon nodded as he began rummaging through the drawers behind the counter. A minute later, before Theresa could explore the new twist any further, he found what he was looking for and handed it to Aaron. When he read it, Aaron looked up in surprise. "Wellington real estate?" he said.

"As in Thomas Wellington, the guy who was killed in the Harper's Island massacre three years ago?" Theresa said, equally surprised. "I thought the whole clan was wiped out in that bloodbath."

"No," Aaron said, "one of the daughters made it. She was married. I think her name was Shea. Shea Allen. She must be running the company now."

"Why would she be asking for you?"

"She wanted to see both of ya." Leon said. "She said somethin' about a business opportunity. Might be your chance to save _The_ _Last Chance_."

Theresa and Aaron exchanged looks. "Maybe we ought to visit her," Aaron said. "It couldn't hurt anything. And if it works out, maybe you can pay for that treatment your mother needs."

Theresa nodded. "It's too late to do it tonight. Let's go see her tomorrow. Now come on. I've got some fun that needs having."

Aaron smiled. "I'll meet you at the bar in an hour."

Theresa left and Aaron started to turn to follow her when Leon stopped him. "I just remembered the other woman's name. It was Abby. Abby Mills."

Aaron froze. "Are you sure?" he asked. Leon nodded and let go of his arm.

As he walked out into the night, Aaron couldn't help but wonder what it meant that two of the survivors of the Harper's Island massacre were looking for him and Theresa. And he couldn't shake the feeling that whatever it was, it wasn't going to end well.


	4. The Proposition

"Will you please sit down," Theresa whispered. "You're making nervous pacing back and forth like that."

It was the next morning and Aaron and Theresa were sitting in the reception area outside Shea Allen's office. Theresa, dressed in a striped blouse and black skirt, was sitting on the couch while Aaron, wearing a long-sleeved olive-green polo shirt and khaki pants, was pacing around the office.

Aaron hadn't told Theresa what Leon had said after she had left because he didn't want to spoil her evening. It hadn't done much for his evening however. He couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his gut.

"Aaron!" Theresa hissed, snapping him out of his trance. "Sit down, please." She motioned to the empty seat next to her, which he took. That didn't stop his fidgeting. After a few more minutes, when she had had enough, she elbowed him in the side. "What is wrong with you? You've been jumpy all morning."

"I have?" Aaron said, looking at her with what he hoped was a look of confusion.

"Yes, you have. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"It must be that I haven't been to a business meeting in a while. And it is with the biggest real estate mogul in the entire northwest, so that definitely doesn't help," he said forcing a grin, which quickly disappeared when he saw the look of skepticism on Theresa's face.

He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. "After you left Leon's last night, he remembered the name of the second woman who came looking for us. It was Abby Mills."

"As in Harper's Island Abby Mills?" Theresa asked, realization dawning on her.

"Exactly. I don't know about you, but learning that two of the survivors of that bloodbath want to see us makes me nervous."

"This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with your dreams, would it?" she asked speculatively. For the better half of the past year, Aaron had had only one dream. In it a young woman, a brunette about his age, begged him to help her. Over the past six months, he had been having the dreams with increased frequency. When he told Theresa about them, she had laguhed. The more often they came, the more he began to believe that they meant something--and the more Theresa had scoffed.

"I don't know," Aaron said, rubbing the medal he wore around his neck. Andrew the Apostle, patron saint of fishermen, had been the good luck charm for the crew of _The Last Chance_ despite the fact that none of the crew was Catholic. Aaron had not taken his off since the night Theresa's father and brother had been washed overboard. He had been washed overboard as well, but had somehow managed to get back on the boat and bring it safely into the nearest port. He thought of it as a sort of good luck charm. "All I know," Aaron continued, "is that I have a bad feeling about this, and my bad feelings usually turn out to be right."

Before Theresa could respond, the secretary, a woman in her mid-thirties, said, "Ms. Allen will see you now."

They stood and walked to the door which led to the office. Taking a deep breath, Aaron pushed it open and they entered. The office was rather large, but it had very little furniture; just two chairs facing a large wooden desk. Sitting behind the desk was a red-haired woman a few years older than Aaron. "Please, sit down," the woman said, motioning toward the chairs. Theresa took the chair on the right, but Aaron remained standing. "Is there a problem?" the woman asked.

"I prefer to stand, Ms. Allen," Aaron said, ignoring the nasty look that Theresa shot him.

Shea Allen nodded. "Please call me Shea. Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked. They calmly declined. Their host was obviously unsure about how to proceed, which added to Aaron's suspicions.

Taking a deep breath, Shea began. "I'll get right to the point. I asked you here today because I have recently learned that my daughter, Madison, was kidnapped, and I need your help to get her back."

Aaron didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. He decided that he would need to sit down after all. As he did, Theresa asked, "Ms. Allen, don't you think this is a matter best suited for the police?"

"I have contacted the police, but they cannot help me."

"What exactly do you expect us to do that the police can't?" Aaron asked.

"I need you to take me to Harper's Island," Shea said after the briefest hesitation.

Aaron and Theresa looked at each other in surprise. Aaron now knew that they were in over their heads. "Why would you need to go there," he asked.

"That's where she is being held," Shea said. "Of course, I would make it worth your while," she added.

This got Theresa's attention. "How much?" she asked.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars now and another two hundred and fifty thousand when my daughter is safely back in Seattle."

"And what role does Abby Mills play in this?" Aaron asked.

Shea hesitated, not expecting that question. Recovering, she said, "Who says she has anything to do with this?"

"I say she does. You shouldn't have brought her with you when you came looking for us. Leon isn't as senile as he would like everyone to think he is."

Shea sighed. "Someone had kidnapped Abby's boyfriend, Jimmy Mance. We think it is the same person who has my daughter."

"On the island," Aaron finished for her. He looked at Theresa and saw that she was considering the amount of money and how it could pay for her mother's treatment. _I better cut her off at the pass,_ he thought,_ before she commits us to something neither of us is ready for._ Looking back to Shea, he said, "Obviously this isn't a decision that can be made lightly. Will you allow us a day or two to talk it over before we answer?"

"With all due respect, Mr. Thomas, I'm not sure my daughter has that long."

"We'll do it," Theresa said before Aaron could respond. Now it was Aaron's turn to shoot out a nasty look. "Could you give us a minute?" he said to Shea, and then he grabbed Theresa's arm and led her to a corner of the office.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"She obviously needs our help, and she's offering to pay good money for our trouble. I need that money, or my mother is going to die."

"Theresa, she wants to go to Harper's Island. Don't you find that even a little troubling?"

"No, why?"

"Two survivors are kidnapped and are being used as bait to lure two other survivors back to the island. There's no way it's a coincidence."

"What, you think there's someone on the island trying to finish what Wakefield and his son started three years ago?"

"Stranger things have happened."

Theresa looked him square in the eye "Aaron she needs our help. I'll take her by myself if I have to."

Aaron sighed. "Fine," he said. "But let me do the talking." Turning back to Shea, he said, "We'll do it, but it's going to take the rest of the day to get the boat ready. If you'll give me your phone number, we'll let you know when it's ready."

Reluctantly, Shea wrote down the number and handed it to him. With a nod, Aaron turned and Theresa followed him out of the office.

Once they were on the elevator, Theresa said, "What's going on? You know it only takes two or three hours to get _The Last Chance_ ready to sail. Why are you stalling her?"

"I want to check something out first," Aaron said. "I know how you feel about this, but I can't shake the feeling that something more is going on than a simple kidnapping. Just trust me, OK?"

Theresa sighed. "Do I really have a choice?" she asked as the elevator reached the ground floor. "But I hope that your stalling doesn't cost that girl her life."

_You and me both,_ Aaron thought. _You and me both_.


	5. The Hacker & The Detective

After they left the office building, Theresa went to the hospital to visit her mother, leaving Aaron alone to run his errands. That was fine with him. It wasn't that he didn't trust Theresa, but he didn't think she would be thrilled with what he had planned, especially if she was as gung-ho about helping Shea and Abby as she acted.

He pulled out his cell phone and called Ian Ryan, his roommate. Ian, a five-foot-nine, brown haired computer engineer and hacker, had been in foster care with Aaron when they were young. While Aaron had been adopted by J. T. and Andrea Thomas and their daughter Katelyn (who was five years older than Aaron), Ian had been adopted by a retired stage actress named Marina Ryan. Following the deaths of J.T. when he was twelve in a boating accident, and Andrea's death in a car accident when he was sixteen, Aaron had requested to move in with Marina, so as to avoid being placed back into the welfare system.

At twenty-seven years old, Ian had graduated with honors from MIT, the only one of the self-proclaimed "three musketeers" (Aaron Thomas, Ian Ryan, and Michael James) to do so. Upon his return, Ian had moved in with Aaron. They had been living together for over five years, and, with the exception of one misunderstanding the week of the premier of the latest Star Trek film, they still got along fine.

After three rings, Ian answered. "What's up, roomie?"

"I need you to do what you do best."

"Get you a date?" Ian said with a grin so big Aaron could practically hear it.

"Look up something on the computer, smart-ass," Aaron said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, that. You sure you don't need that other thing?"

"This is serious, Ian. Get on the computer."

"Alright, hold on. I'll put you on speaker." In the background, Aaron soon heard the clicking of the keyboard. "OK, what do you need?"

"I need you to hack into the SPD database and look up a case for me?"

Ian suddenly got serious. "Hold on. What exactly are you involved in?"

"Relax will you? I'm not asking you to change any records or make evidence disappear. I just need you to look up which detective's working a case. Can you handle that?"

Ian sighed. "Ok, that I can do. Give me the name. "

"It's a kidnapping. Victim's name is Madison Allen."

There was rigorous typing on the other end of the line for the next five minutes. Aaron knew better than to hassle Ian when he was hacking, but the temptation was overwhelming by the time he finally got back on the line. "Ok, the lead detective is an N. William Bates. Isn't that the guy who helped you out of that jam when you were 17?"

"Yeah. That's good. It means I won't have to go through channels to find him."

"Good for you. Is there anything else?"

Aaron was about to say no, when an idea occurred to him. "Yeah. See what you can find on an Abby Mills. She's somewhere in the city. Find out where, and get me a cell phone number."

"You want me to find out what they got in Area 51 while I'm at it?" Ian asked sarcastically.

"Only if you're bored."

"And what do I get for my trouble?"

"What do you want?" Aaron asked, not sure he wanted the answer.

"I want you to tell me what's going on."

"I'll tell you later. Call me when you've got that stuff on Abby Mills."

"Yeah," Ian said, resigning to the fact that he wasn't going to get any answers. "And Aaron?"

"Yeah?"

"If I get caught, I'm rolling on you for a deal."

Aaron chuckled. "I wouldn't have it any other way." Then he hung up, flagged down a cab, and hurried off to his next destination, unaware that he was being watched.

* * *

Detective Norman William Bates had been born into an unfortunate set of circumstances. His family name was Bates, his great grandfather's name was Norman, and he had been born on June 16, 1960, the day "Psycho" premiered in New York. If he hadn't had a middle name to revert to, his life would have been a miserable one indeed.

Only a handful of people outside of his family knew his first name. Most people called him William (or some variation of it), or Bates. Among the few people who knew this secret was Aaron Thomas. He had learned it the first time they had met, when Aaron was fifteen. He had been arrested in a drug bust(despite the fact that he had no drugs on him and had not been using—It was a case of wrong place wrong time), the latest and most serious in a long line of offenses he had accumulated in the two years since his father had died. At Andrea's request, Norman had taken Aaron under his wing and helped keep him out of jail. In an effort to gain the youth's trust, Norman had divulged his most precious secret. At his request, Aaron had kept it a secret, telling only Ian and Michael, and later, Theresa.

As Aaron walked into the police station, he was overwhelmed by the amount of noise. Between the police officers and the arrestees waiting to be booked, he almost didn't hear the female officer calling to him. "Can I help you, sir?" she said over the hustle and bustle.

After introducing himself, Aaron said, "I need to see Detective Bates," jumping back to avoid being trampled by a new wave of incoming suspects. "It's about the Allen case. I have some information he might find interesting."

The young woman nodded and turned into the crowd. Aaron dodged a few more new arrivals before Detective Bates, graying hair and all, appeared through the crowd. When he saw Aaron he gave him a look that was a mixture of happiness and confusion. "What are you doing here?" Detective Bates asked over the crowd.

"I need to talk to you about the Allen case. Didn't that policewoman tell you that?"

"She didn't get a chance. All she said was that you were here asking for me. So what's your information?"

"Can you spare a minute from the rat race?" Aaron said, indicating the chaos around them. "I'd like to talk someplace more private."

"I think so. I'll tell my partner to hold down the fort and meet you outside. It's good to see you again, kid."

"Same here, Bates," Aaron called as the detective disappeared into the crowd. Aaron turned and worked his way out onto the steps. Two minutes later, Detective Bates joined him. As they walked to a nearby coffee shop, Aaron started the small talk. "So how's Kenny these days?" Kenny Gregory, Detective Bates' partner of nearly twenty years, hadn't taken to Aaron as quickly as Detective Bates had, but after a few years he had come around.

Detective Bates stopped walking. "You didn't hear?" he asked.

Aaron turned back. "Hear what?" he asked, concerned.

"Kenny was killed in a shootout two weeks ago."

Aaron froze. "I'm sorry, Bates. I've been out of touch for almost a month. Did they catch the guy who shot him?"

"Yeah. He committed suicide in prison two days before his trial was set to start, though."

They walked in silence for about a block until Aaron asked, "So you've got a new partner, then?"

"Yeah," Detective Bates said. "A new kid named April Evans. She just made detective."

"What's she like?"

"She's a little green, but she's good at relating to the victim's families. And she's a red-head." He added with a chuckle. Norman had always had an affection for red-heads. Both of his wives, ex and current, had red hair. It was one of the man's few personal tastes that Aaron had also acquired. The younger man still liked blondes and brunettes, but red-heads had taken a new standard with him.

"Steady, tiger," Aaron said as they walked into the coffee shop. "She's a little young for you isn't she?"

Detective Bates just shook his head and chuckled. When they sat down with their drinks a few minutes later, he was all business. "So what is this information you have?" he asked. "And bear in mind I can't divulge any facts about an ongoing investigation."

"Do I look like a reporter?" Aaron asked. "You don't have to give away any details, just say yes or no." He took a long sip of his coffee before continuing. "Do you have any reason to suspect that whoever kidnapped the Allen kid is holding her on Harper's Island?"

"No, why?"

"Shea Allen seems to think that's where her daughter is. She's hired Theresa and me to take her and Abby Mills up there to search for her daughter."

Detective Bates sat up. "Are you serious?"

"As the day is long. Theresa is hell bent on doing it, since she's hoping that the half-mil Ms. Allen offered to pay us will pay for her mother's treatment."

"Damn," Detective Bates said. "She's been screaming from say one that her kid was on the island. I never thought she would take it this far. What are you planning to do?"

"I managed to stall Ms. Allen until tomorrow. I'm going to see if I can figure out what proof she has, and convince either her or Abby Mills to allow you, your partner, and any other man power you might need to come with us."

"And if you can't?"

Aaron downed the last of his coffee. "Then I'm going to refuse to go. I don't want to go without some kind of backup. And I'll make sure Theresa doesn't go either."

"She's not going to like that."

"I know. But I won't let her risk her life in that for any amount of money."

"I'm sure her mother will appreciate it," Detective Bates said, as he finished his coffee and stood to leave. "Let me know if you make any headway with Ms. Allen. If she agrees, I'll get you a police escort. I'll even volunteer to lead it."

"Can you be spared?" Aaron asked.

"I'll sell it somehow. I'll see you around kid."

As soon as Detective Bates had left, Aaron's cell phone rang. It was Ian.

"I've got a cell number for Abby Mills," he said as soon as Aaron answered. "But she's not listed in any of the hotel's with computer records. If she's still in the city, she's staying somewhere off of the grid."

"Ok, thanks Ian," Aaron said as he wrote down the number. "I'll call if I need anything else."

"Are you going to tell me what this is about now?"

"When I get home tonight, I promise." Before Ian could argue, Aaron hung up. He immedeately flipped his phone open again and dialed the number Ian had given him.


	6. The Meeting

Abby Mills hadn't slept well in nearly three weeks. She had requested extended leave from her job in Los Angeles, so she could stay in Seattle until Jimmy and Madison could be found. She had also moved in with Shea, so she could be easily reached when news came. Her worry had kept her awake, and when she did sleep, she had dreams about the island, and in all of them, Jimmy either disappeared or was killed. If he wasn't found soon, she was afraid she would lose her mind with worry.

Shea Allen had been working on a plan to find Jimmy and Madison, but hadn't given Abby any sort of clues as to what that plan would entail. She had her suspicions though, and had insisted in tagging along with Shea when she went to the docks to talk to the fishermen. Shea had avoided directly telling the old man what she wanted to see them for, but Abby was sure that the plan involved a trip to Harper's Island. She had decided that when Shea returned from work, she would confront her and demand to know her plans.

She was just finishing an early lunch when her cell phone rang. _It must be Shea calling to make plans for lunch or something_, she thought. She picked up the phone and looked at the caller-id. Her mood instantly changed to confusion. The number on the screen, 340-438-9039, was unfamiliar to her. Cautiously, she opened the phone. "Hello?" she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"Abby Mills?" the male voice on the other end of the line said. She didn't recognize it, which made her more than a little worried. "Who is this?" she asked.

"Aaron Thomas. I believe we have a mutual acquaintance. Shea Allen."

Abby breathed a sigh of relief. This was the man Shea had gone to the docks to see the day before. If he was calling her, then that part of her plan must be working out. "What do you what?"

"I want to talk to you about the plan you and Ms. Allen are cooking up."

"What plan?" Abby asked in a voice she hoped sounded innocent.

"The one that involves Theresa James and me taking the two of you up to Harper's Island," Aaron said. "And don't act as though you don't know what I'm talking about."

Abby sighed. "I honestly didn't know she'd hired you. But I had my suspicions about why she wanted to meet with you."

"Are you trying to tell me you weren't in on it?"

"Shea didn't tell me any details of her plans. But like I said, I had my suspicions. I was going to confront her with them tonight."

"Well, before you do that, I want to meet with you. Are you game?"

Abby paused and considered what he might want to say. But if they were of the same mindset, that someone needed to talk some sense into Shea Allen, then it might be worth hearing what he had to say. "Where and when?" she asked.

"The Eagle's Nest bar on Thirty-Second Street. Be there in half an hour." With a click the phone shut off.

__________________________________________________________________________________

It only took Aaron fifteen minutes to reach the bar, so he grabbed a table near the door, ordered his drink (scotch on the rocks), and waited. He was halfway through his second drink when Abby Mills walked through the door five minutes early.

He recognized her more easily than he thought. She hadn't changed much since her picture was plastered all over the news. If anything, she looked better now than she did then. _Of course_, Aaron thought, _after an ordeal like that I wouldn't look too great either_. Out loud all he said was, "Abby?"

She turned and nodded. He grinned and waved her over. She glanced anxiously around and joined him at the table. "You're Aaron Thomas?"

"I was when I called you thirty minutes ago," he said still grinning. When she didn't blink, he said, "You know, it wouldn't kill you to smile a little. Can I get you something to drink? I'm buying."

She took a deep breath and nodded. As Aaron flagged down a waitress, she said, "I'm sorry. I don't go out in public much, as you can imagine." She ordered a beer and smiled.

"There it is," Aaron said, his grin coming back as he ordered a refill on his scotch.

When the drinks came, Abby suddenly went back to being all business. "What did you want to talk about?"

"You don't waste any time, do you?" Aaron said. "We need to talk about Shea Allen and her plans. Specifically, whether or not they involve the police."

"Like I said, I don't know the specifics, but I don't think they do."

Aaron sighed and took a sip of his scotch. "I thought as much. I'm going to need to talk to her about that."

"What are you going to say?"

"That without some kind of police backup, I'm not going to Harper's Island, and neither is Theresa."

"Are you saying you wouldn't help us?"

"Not without the police," Aaron said. Seeing where the conversation was heading, he decided to head it off. "Look, I appreciate what she's trying to do for you. I understand the urgent need to find someone who's gone missing. But this is a potential hostage situation, and going in with only two fishermen to back you up is insane. You need the police. Besides," he added, "with the police, you'll have more people to search for Jimmy and Madison, and maybe we'll find them that much faster."

Abby leaned in close and whispered. "That's all well and good, but there's something that you should know." She reached into her pocket and pulled a piece of paper out of it. "After Jimmy was taken, this note was… left in my bedroom. And a similar note was delivered to Shea a week after Madison was picked up from her summer camp by a man claiming to be her father."

Aaron noted the hesitation, but didn't press it. He took the note and read it. When he finished, he let out a long, low whistle. "So you and Shea think John Wakefield is alive, and that's why this hurry to get back to Harper's Island. Any particular reason you held this detail back from Detective Bates?"

Abby looked up in surprise. "You know Detective Bates?"

"He's an old friend of mine. Now I ask again, any reason why you would forget to mention these notes to the police?"

"You'll have to ask Shea about the note about Madison. As to this one, there's no open investigation into Jimmy's disappearance, either in Seattle or L.A., so I didn't turn it over to the police."

Aaron nodded and downed the rest of his scotch. "I guess I have all the information you can give me. I'll have to talk to Shea Allen next."

Abby nodded. "She won't be back from the office for another few hours. I'm staying at her place. You can wait there for her."

Aaron nodded. Flagging down the waitress he paid for their drinks and then followed Abby out to the cab she had flagged down.


	7. The Shrine

It turned out that Shea Allen was already waiting for them when they arrived. Before Abby or Aaron could say anything, she started yelling. "What are you two doing, plotting behind my back?" she said. "Conspiring against me? I won't stand for it! Dammit I won't stand for it!" She went to the desk on the far side to the living room and pulled out a revolver and turned on them. Then, her eyes wild, Shea began to advance on them.

Aaron threw his hands in the air, palms outward, and froze. Abby, on the other hand, slowly walked toward Shea.

"Shea, put the gun down," she whispered.

"Stay back!" Shea said, her voice breaking. "Stay back or I swear I'll shoot!"

"No, you won't," Abby said, calmly. "We just want to talk to you about finding Madison."

Shea faltered and Aaron knew that Abby was getting through. With two more steps, Abby had reached Shea and slowly took the gun from her. The two women stared at each other for a second, and then Shea broke into tears and collapsed into Abby's arms. As they slowly sank onto the couch, Aaron lowered his arms. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty. After all, it was his reluctance to help that had brought her to this.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he decided to give the two women a minute. He turned and walked back into the hallway. About halfway down the hall, he saw a cabinet of photos. His curiosity aroused, he went over to take a closer look.

The first thing he noticed was that there were no pictures of Shea or Madison in the cabinet. There were only photos of five people. The first was an older man whom Aaron assumed to be Thomas Wellington, Shea's father. There were also pictures of a blonde haired man about Shea's age, a younger man with dark hair, and a dark haired woman who was also around the same age as Shea (Aaron couldn't help but notice that there was only one picture of her, as though she had earned a place in this cabinet, but had done something to shame the family name). But the person that caught Aaron's attention was the young woman in a wedding dress. The more he stared at her, the more he felt his stomach churn.

"Abby," he called as soon as he found his voice. When she didn't answer he called again, louder this time.

"What are you yelling about!?" she said when she came out into the hallway.

"Come here," he said, not taking his eyes off of the photograph. When she reached his side she too was taken in by the pictures. "Who are they?" Aaron asked, though he already had a pretty good idea.

"These are the members of Shea's family who were killed by Henry Dunn three years ago."

"Killed?" Aaron asked, taking his eyes away from the shrine. "All of them?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because for the past year I've only had one dream. And in it, that woman," he said pointing to the picture of the young woman in the wedding dress, "asks me for help."

"Trish?" Abby asked with a mixture of surprise and skepticism.

"Yes, Trish. And what's more, she's always wearing that dress."

"That's because she died in that dress. I think you've been dreaming of her ghost."

Aaron let out a soft chuckle. "What does it say about me that I don't have any problem believing that?"

"That you're learning the nature of Harper's Island. Either that, or you're going crazy," she added with a grin. "The truth is," she continued, "that note I showed you came to me in a dream. At least I think it did. I found it in a dream and then had it in my apartment back in L.A. Trish was in that dream, too, along with Chris Sullivan, another victim of that massacre. They said I was the only one who could help them. I wonder what Trish needs your help for?"

"Maybe I'm supposed to help you help them. Is Shea calm enough to talk?"

"I think so. Let me have a minute to make sure first, though." With a last look back at the Wellington shrine, Abby turned and went back to the living room. Aaron followed her, but stopped in the doorway. The two women talked in whispers for a few minutes before Abby turned and nodded.

Aaron walked over to Shea, who was drying her eyes. "Shea, I want to apologize for upsetting you. But I need to know why you didn't show the note to the police."

"I don't know," Shea said hanging her head. "It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I suppose I thought that the Detective would take it as seriously as I did."

"Well, you don't have to worry about Detective Bates. He's even volunteered to head up a police force to help us search the island."

Shea looked up. "Is he really?"

Aaron smiled. "He told me so himself. If you'll allow him and his people to come along, I don't forsee a problem."

"What about John Wakefield?" Abby asked.

"I don't think John Wakefield's behind this, but I think someone's going to great lengths to convince you otherwise."

Neither woman said anything, but Aaron could tell that they disagreed. He would address that later. For now there were more important matters to deal with. "Listen, Shea, I'll be honest. I'm not comfortable with the idea of going to Harper's Island without some kind of police backup, especially under these circumstances."

"I would prefer to do this without the police," Shea said.

_God, this woman is stubborn, _Aaron thought, shaking his head. "I've already explained this to Abby and I'll explain it to you," he said. "This is a potential hostage situation, and going into it without the police is suicide, and it could have disastrous consequences for your daughter. Besides, having a few extra sets of eyes to look around won't hurt."

A look in Shea's eyes told Aaron that he was getting through to her, but her silence told him that there was still a part of her that wasn't ready to agree to his terms. _Alright, _he thought. _Time to go to Plan-B._

Standing, Aaron said "I'll give you until tomorrow. If you don't agree to let the police help you on this, I'm not taking you to Harper's Island, and I'll make sure Theresa doesn't either. And good luck finding another sucker to take you up there. There's more ghost stories floating around about that cursed rock now then there were last year, and the locals are spooked. Abby has my cell number. Call me when you've made up your mind." He turned and walked toward the door.

"Wait," Shea called after him. Aaron turned around to face her. "You're right. We'll need all the help we can get going into this."

Aaron smiled. "I knew you'd come around. I'll have Detective Bates put together a small team to accompany us."

Shea smiled. "Thank you," she said, fighting back tears.

"It's nothing. Be at the docks at nine o'clock tomorrow morning and we can leave. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some business to discuss with Detective Bates." With a smile and a quick little salute, Aaron turned and left.

As soon as he stepped outside, Aaron flipped open his phone and called Detective Bates. "It's a go," he said when his friend answered. "Start picking out your team."


	8. The Team

The sun was just setting when Aaron walked back into the police station after spending the afternoon getting ready for the trip to Harper's Island. He had visited Theresa's mother in the hospital and explained the new developments to Theresa. He had then gone home to change (Ian wasn't there, as he had gone to work after Aaron had called him). After that, he went down to the docks to get _The Last Chance_ ready to sail so that minimum preparations would be needed the next morning. He was just finishing this when Detective Bates had called, saying he wanted to speak to him.

The station was considerably calmer than it had been earlier that day. There were only a few people around now. He quickly explained to the receptionist why he was there. She smiled and handed him a visitors badge and directed him toward Detective Bates' desk, which was on the third floor.

When he walked into the squad room, which was mostly empty, he didn't see his friend anywhere. He did however see, at a desk in the middle of the room, a young, red-haired woman whom he figured was about twenty-five or twenty-six. She seemed to be knee deep in paper work. Her desk was pushed up against another desk in the style of most police stations (or so Aaron assumed—he had only ever been in this one), so that she would be facing her partner. Her desk faced the doorway, and before Aaron could decide the best way to approach her, she looked up and saw him standing in the doorway.

"Can I help you?" she called to him.

"I'm looking for Detective Bates," Aaron said. "I was told he was up here, but I don't see him. To be honest," he added with a grin, "I'm not even sure I'm on the right floor."

The young woman smiled back. "The hell you don't," she said as she stood and walked over to him. "I know that you've been here before, Aaron Thomas. I'm April Evans, William's new partner."

"Well, if I didn't know you were new before, I sure do now," Aaron said as he held out his hand.

"What do you mean?"

Aaron smiled. "I might tell you someday, if Bates doesn't beat me to it."

"You call him Bates?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Everyone else calls him Bates, but I called him that once and he got all defensive and told me to call him William."

Aaron's smile disappeared. "Bates was a nickname he got from Kenny, the man you replaced. I guess that hearing it from you stirred up some painful memories for him. I mean Kenny's not in the ground a week and they're already replacing him with someone who is half as old as he was. That can't be easy for him, especially after all they went through together."

"Yeah," April said. "I hear they were close."

"That they were," Aaron said pensively. They stood in silence for a minute before Aaron said, "So where is ol' William Bates?"

April pointed over her shoulder to a door at the far end of the squad room. "He's in the interview room picking out people for the team that's going to the island. He's been there since you called after leaving Shea Allen's house."

"Well, let's go give him a hand. I don't know about you, but I'd like to know whose going to have my back in that hell hole." Aaron pushed past her and headed toward the interview room.

"What is it about that island that has everyone so spooked?" April said, more to herself than to Aaron, but it didn't stop him from stopping when he heard it. He slowly turned back to the young detective who had sat down at her desk.

"Where are you from?" Aaron asked as he approached her desk.

"I was a patroller in Chicago before I made detective," April said, turning around to face him. "Once I did I got transferred out here, because Seattle apparently needed me more than Chicago did."

"So you don't know about the murders?"

"Murders?"

Aaron took a deep breath and said, "Alright, I'll give you the Reader's Digest version." He then grabbed a chair from the nearest desk and sat down. "Ten years ago a man named John Wakefield murdered six people in one day. He then strung them up in a tree in the middle of the island. After that he disappeared, and everyone thought he was dead. Seven years later, he reappeared, this time with his son, Henry Dunn, as his accomplice. Between the two of them, they killed over thirty people before they were finally stopped. That is what has everyone so spooked. The people living on Harper's Island were so spooked that they abandoned it within six months of the massacre."

"So why would someone take Madison Allen there?"

"Her mother was one of the only survivors. You met Abby Mills when you got this case right?"

"Yes."

"Well, she's another survivor. So was her boyfriend Jimmy and he's gone missing as well. They think, and I'm inclined to agree with them, that they're on the island. That's why we're going up there—to rescue those two hostages. Now, I'm going to see who your partner has picked out to back us up. Would you care to join me?"

"I think I'd better," April said. She stood and led the way to the interview room. When they entered, they saw that Detective Bates was interviewing a man who appeared to be only a few years older than Aaron. On the table next to him was a stack of about twenty files.

"Oh, Aaron, April," Detective Bates said after they had closed the door behind them. "This is Sebastian Poindexter. He's one of several people I'm considering to back us up on this operation."

"Poindexter? Really?" Aaron asked barely suppressing his laughter. A small cough from April told him that she was having the same problem. "I hope you gave your parents hell for that," Aaron said fighting to keep a straight face. April on the other hand, couldn't hold it in any longer and burst into fits of laughter. It wasn't long before Aaron and Detective Bates were laughing along with her, at which point Sebastian Poindexter stood and stormed out of the room.

Five minutes later, when they had stopped laughing, Aaron turned to Detective Bates and said, "Please tell me he isn't going to be in the final four."

"Four?" Detective Bates asked. "I figured on at least ten, counting April and myself."

"There's not enough room for that many on _The Last Chance_," Aaron said, taking the seat that Sebastian Poindexter had occupied moments before. "With Abby, Shea, Theresa, and me—and allowing room for Madison, Jimmy, and the S.O.B behind this, assuming you can take him alive—there's only room for four more people. We could maybe fit one or two more people on board, but it's going to be a tight fit."

"I don't feel comfortable taking so many civilians into a search-and-rescue situation. We'll need you and Theresa to get us up there, but Shea and Abby should stay here."

"Well, I wouldn't want to be the one to tell her that, especially after she's spent so much time and effort trying to get someone to take an initiative and try to rescue her daughter. And I'll have to insist on their coming since Shea is paying me half-a-million dollars to do this her way."

"I can insist she stay," Detective Bates said, leaning forward.

"Well, you can tell yourself tomorrow," Aaron said. "She'll be at the docks at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. You and your men be there then. And no uniforms. I don't want to spook anybody unnecessarily."

So who are you volunteering to back us up on this operation?" April asked.

After rummaging through the files, Detective Bates pulled out five and slid them across the table. "There's Dennis McAllister, our top hostage negotiator; Calvin Williams and his partner Rachel Martinelli, the secondary detectives on the Allen case; Kevin Palmer, a sharpshooter and one of the toughest SWAT guys I know; and last but not least, Brian Mitchell who was an EMT before joining the force. I figured it couldn't hurt to have someone with that kind of expertise."

After looking over the files, Aaron turned to leave. As a final farewell he said, "It was nice to meet you April. I'll see you two tomorrow morning."

Just then Detective Bates phone rang. He flipped it open. "Bates," he said. There was a brief pause during which the detective tensed up. Finally he said, "Yeah, we'll be down there in a minute," and hung up.

"What's wrong?" April asked.

"There's been a homicide down at the docks," Detective Bates said slowly, almost as though he were in a trance.

"Who was it?" Aaron asked, in a voice that was more than a little panicked.

"I don't know. But the lead detective thinks that there might be a connection to the Allen kidnapping. She wants us down there, now."

"I'm coming too," Aaron said. Detective Bates nodded and led the way out of the building.


	9. The Call

As they sped towards the harbor, sirens blaring, Aaron kept trying to call Theresa. Her phone kept going straight to voice mail, which was unusual and didn't help Aaron's already tense mood.

"There's no reason to assume she's the victim," April said from the front seat of the car.

"As long as she doesn't answer, there's no reason to assume she isn't," Aaron snapped, slamming his phone shut. Noting the silence that followed, Aaron instantly changed his demeanor. "I'm sorry, April. This whole Harper's Island mess has got me a little paranoid."

"I'm sure she's fine," Detective Bates said from the driver's seat. "She probably just turned her phone off in the hospital or something."

"Yeah, that's probably it," Aaron mumbled, not really believing it. They rode in silence for a few minutes before Aaron tried to reach Theresa again. Again he had no luck. By this time, they had arrived at the docks.

They quickly got out of the car and worked their way through the crowd of reporters, civilians and policemen that had gathered around Leon's store. When they ducked under the crime-scene tape, they were met by a blonde woman in her early forties.

"Glad you could make it, Bates," she said as she shook the detective's hand. "I was sorry to hear about Kenny. I know how close you two were."

"Thank you. I'd like you to meet my new partner April Evans, and my good friend Aaron Thomas. Guys, this is Sophia Curtis"

"Nice to meet you," Sophia said, shaking their hands.

"Have you identified the body?" Aaron asked.

"Not yet."

"I might be able to help with that. I know everyone who has a boat in this marina. If it's one of them I can tell you who it is."

Sophia glanced at Detective Bates, who shrugged. She took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, but I have to warn you, it's not pretty." She turned and led them through the door into the store.

Sophia was right—the sight that awaited them wasn't pretty. Leon Nowicki, his body dripping with blood had had his arms tied to a pole which was hanging from the ceiling.

"Oh God," Aaron gasped, averting his eyes as nausea threatened to overtake him.

"You know him?" Sophia asked, though it was fairly obvious to the three detectives that he did.

"Yeah," Aaron said, clearing his throat and trying not to look at the body. "It's Leon Nowicki. He owns this store. God, who did this?"

"We don't know yet. I'm sorry for your loss."

"On the phone you mentioned a connection to the Allen case?" Detective Bates asked.

Detective Curtis hesitated and glanced over at Aaron. "Is he involved in the case?"

"I'm a friend of the family" Aaron said.

"Right," Sophia said and waved a uniformed officer over. "These were in an envelope that was pinned to the body." She took the three evidence bags that the officer had and handed them to Detective Bates, who, after looking at each one, passed them on to April and Aaron. The first contained a note which said:

_Time is running out._

_J.W._

The other two bags contained photographs. Aaron recognized the first as the picture Abby had shown him in the bar. The other was a picture of a young girl whom Aaron assumed to be Madison Allen.

"I recognized the Allen girl from the photograph," Sophia said. "But I don't recognize the couple in the other photograph. Do any of you recognize them?"

"That's Abby Mills and her boyfriend Jimmy Mance," Aaron said. "He's missing too, supposedly taken by the same person who took Madison Allen."

"How do you know that?" Sophia asked.

"I'm a friend of hers too. She and Mrs. Allen have hired me to take them to Harper's Island to find Jimmy and Madison."

"I'm afraid I can't let you leave until I've searched your boat and checked your alibi."

"Wait, am I a suspect in this?" Aaron asked, indicating the bloody crime scene around them.

"That depends on where you were three hours ago, when Mr. Nowicki died."

"I was out in the marina, working on the boat," he replied. Then the full gravity of that statement hit him. "I was only a hundred yards away while my friend was being slaughtered."

"I'll need to check that out," Sophia said. "Did anyone see you?"

"I don't know, maybe. You'll have to ask around."

"I will, but for now I need to search your boat."

Aaron glanced from Sophia to Detective Bates and back again. He then sighed and said, "Fine. Follow me." Then he turned and, avoiding the pool of blood, led the way out of the store , through the crowd, across the parking lot, and down the docks to _The Last Chance_, which was tied up three-quarters down the dock.

While Sophia searched the boat, Aaron found himself staring back down to the dock toward the store. He couldn't shake the fact that he had been this far away from his friend while he was being killed, presumably by the same psycho who had kidnapped a fifteen year old girl and was holding her in the most haunted place in the entire state. Despite the fact that he knew he wasn't responsible for Leon's death, Aaron couldn't shake the guilt. That is, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you ok?" April said as he turned around.

"I don't know," he said with a sigh, wiping away the tears that had been forming in his eyes. "In one day, I've gone from struggling fisherman to being caught in the middle of a kidnapping investigation. And if that's not enough, one of my friends is murdered while I'm only a few dozen yards away."

"You two were close?"

"Not as close as Bates and Kenny were, but yeah. Leon was the crazy uncle I never had. Hell, he was the uncle I never had. J.T., my adopted father was an only child, and Andrea, my adopted mother's only sibling was her sister who never got married and was in and out of rehab until she over-dosed when I was ten."

"You were adopted?"

Aaron cocked an eyebrow. "Seriously, that's the part of that statement you want me to expand on? Not my adopted aunt's drug habit?"

"I guess so," April said with a shrug. "I mean, I think it's interesting that you don't call your parents 'mom' and 'dad.'"

"Well, I don't want you to give the idea that I didn't love them. It's just that I never felt comfortable calling them 'mom' and 'dad.'"

"Why not?"

"Are you working undercover for Dr. Phil?" Aaron said. "Lots of adoptees don't call the people who adopt them 'mom' and 'dad.' I'm not that special. My friend Ian did the same thing with Marina, the woman who adopted him."

"Sorry," she said with an apologetic grin. "I just wanted to get your mind off of Leon for a little while. And I want to get to know you a little better, since you and I are obviously going to be spending a lot of time together, you know, because of William."

"Yeah. Where is he anyway?" he asked, noticing for the first time that Detective Bates had disappeared.

"He went back to the car to call the chief about the new development in our case. You didn't see him? He walked right past you."

"I must have been too distracted with Leon."

"I understand," she said, taking a step closer. "It's not easy losing someone close to you. But I guess you'd know about that, being an orphan."

"Actually, I never knew my parents. I was in a foster home until I was six."

"Really?" April said, continuing to get closer. "Your life's just been one tough break after another."

"I guess so," Aaron said awkwardly as she stopped right next to him. He was speechless as he found himself staring into her eyes. All of the problems that had been swimming through his mind in the past hour suddenly disappeared and his life began to make sense again. He smiled, almost despite himself. Slowly, almost unwillingly, he began to lean toward her, and she leaned toward him. They were just about to kiss when his phone rang, jerking them both back to reality.

"I should get that," Aaron said awkwardly as he reached into his pocket.

"Yeah," April said as she stepped back, her voice barely concealing her disappointment. "It might be Theresa calling you back."

"Right," Aaron said. They held their glances for a second longer, and then he flipped his phone open. "Theresa?"

"Guess again, Aaron" a strange, deep male voice said.

Aaron stiffened. "Who is this?"

"That's not important. What is important is that I'm running out of patience."

"Who is it?" April asked.

Aaron moved the phone away from his ear. "I don't know, but I think it's the guy behind this. Can you get someone to trace the call?"

"Yeah," she said, quickly digging her own cell phone out of her coat pocket. "What's your number?"

He quickly gave her the number and turned his attention back to the caller. "Who are you?"

"I said that's not important."

"Well, what am I supposed to call you?"

There was a brief pause, then the man said, "I suppose you could call me the Apostle."

Aaron began to rub his medal in frustration. "Ok, Apostle. What do you want?"

"We'll get to that. But first things first, have the cops searching your boat found my note yet?"

_He's watching me,_ Aaron thought. He quickly did an assessment of where the caller could be and came up with a hundred different possibilities. _Or he could be no where nearby and was simply trying to mess with my head_, he thought in frustration. He would have to wait for the police to trace the call. "What note?"

"That's a no, then. I left it of the bridge after I killed the old man. Go get it. I'll wait." Then he hung up.

Aaron fought to keep his rage in check as he hopped onto _The Last Chance_ just as Detective Curtis came up from searching the lower decks. She said something that he didn't hear as he hurried up to the bridge.

He flipped the lights on and instantly saw the envelope taped to the helm. He opened it and pulled out a photograph of Ian, Theresa, and him that was taken three months before at his birthday party. Panic overtook him as he grabbed the note that was inside the envelope.

It was written in the same handwriting as the note Abby had showed him and the one found on Leon's body. It said:

_I have them. Come get them._

_J.W._

Aaron's knees began to wobble and he grabbed the display panel to steady himself. _This can't be happening,_ he thought, knowing full well that it was indeed happening.

He then felt someone pulling the note and photograph out of his hand. He turned and saw Detective Curtis standing beside him. April was standing in the doorway, looking confused. "He has Ian and Theresa."

"I'm sorry," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get them back."

Before Aaron could say anything, his phone rang again.

"I trust you've found it by now?" the deep voice said when he answered.

"Where are they, you son-of-a-bitch?" Aaron hissed.

"Such a temper," the voice mocked. "Don't worry, they're safe. For now."

"What do you want?"

"Well, I want a number of things. First, I'd love to meet that red-head you've been talking to. You two make a cute couple. But that can wait. Second, and more importantly, I want you to come to Harper's Island to try to rescue your friends. I've been waiting for you for too long."

"Don't worry, I'm coming," Aaron said, rage filling him. "I'll find Theresa, Ian, and anyone else you have there. And then I'm coming for you. And when I find you, I'm going to watch you burn."

"We'll see about that," the voice said with a laugh. Then, with a click, the line went dead.


	10. The Next Morning

When Aaron woke up the next morning, it took him a minute to remember what had happened the night before. It might have taken longer if he hadn't spent the night on _The Last Chance_. He had gone back to the apartment as soon as Detective Curtis had cleared him in Leon's murder, but he couldn't bring himself to stay there, knowing that his two best friends were in the hands of a psychopath. So he had grabbed a change of clothes and a few other essentials, like his switch-blade, his toothbrush and, and the old-west style razor he had inherited from J.T., and went back to the marina and slept on the boat.

After he got dressed, he walked out of the main cabin with a cup of semi-crappy coffee from the galley and looked out over the bay, something he did nearly every morning when he and Theresa were out fishing, his mind turned to the task ahead of him. Taking a deep breath, Aaron swore to himself what he had sworn to the so-called Apostle the night before: He was going to find Theresa and Ian and he was going to make this bastard pay.

"Did you sleep well?" a voice behind him said. Turning, he saw Detective Evans standing on the dock wearing civilian clothes and carrying a small duffle bag.

"I guess so, considering the circumstances," he said as he crossed the deck.

"Permission to come aboard, sir?" she said with a smile.

Aaron smiled. "Permission granted," he said, offering her his hand. As she stepped on board Aaron found himself staring into her eyes again. This time, however, he pulled away. "So where are Bates and the rest of the team?"

"They're getting the gear out of the van. Are Abby and Shea here yet?"

"Not yet, but they should be here any minute. I don't suppose Bates has changed his mind about letting them come?"

"If he has, he hasn't said anything to me about it. You don't think they'll make trouble do you?"

"I'd be very surprised if they don't. Telling a mother she can't help find her daughter? If that's not grounds for troublemaking, I don't what is."

April nodded in agreement. Then she pointed down the dock. "Here they come."

Aaron turned and saw five people, four men and one woman dressed in civilian clothes, coming down the docks toward _The Last Chance_.

"You Aaron Thomas?" the first man, a short-haired, muscular man in his mid-thirties, asked as they reached the boat.

"That's right. You're Kevin Palmer?"

The man nodded and introduced the rest of the team: Dennis McAllister, a man with short-black hair in his early thirties, Calvin Williams, a black man in his mid-forties with slightly graying hair, his partner Rachel Martinelli, who was in her late twenties with shoulder length black hair, and last but not least was Brian Mitchell, the blonde-haired ex-EMT who was also in his late twenties.

"Where's Bates?" Aaron asked after he had finished exchanging handshakes.

"He got stopped in the parking lot by two women," Brian said. "He said he needed to talk to them and then sent us on ahead."

"What did these women look like?" April asked.

"The older one had red hair and the younger one had brown hair."

"That's got to be Shea and Abby. I bet Bates is up there telling them they can't come with us."

"I agree with him," Dennis said. "They'd only make this situation worse."

"Maybe," Aaron said as he hopped off of the boat, "but since Shea Allen's paying me half-a-million dollars to bring the two of them to the Island, I've got to go up there and argue on their behalf. You guys start loading the gear. I'll be back."

Sure enough, Detective Bates was having a rather heated argument with Shea Allen while Abby Mills tried to play mediator. When she saw him coming, Abby hurried over, leaving the other two to fight it out.

"Thank God you're here," she said when she reached him. "I'm afraid that this is going to get physical any minute now."

"Well, we don't need that. I'll see what I can do." He then called out to them, and they finally stopped fighting. "Ok, now that I have your attention, let's see if we can't resolve this in a more civilized fashion."

Shea spoke first. "Aaron, you said that there wouldn't be any problems with the detectives. But this idiot is telling me that I can't even help look for my own child."

"I'm going to ignore the name calling," Detective Bates said. "But as I have explained, too many civilians will complicate things."

"Alright cool it," Aaron said before Shea could respond. He then turned to his friend. "You know where I stand on this."

"Yes, you have five hundred thousand reasons to want them to come with us."

"Yeah, but it's more than that. We're going to need someone who knows their way around that Island, and I don't think you're going to find anyone more qualified—or more willing—to help us."

Detective Bates looked like he was about to argue, but decided at the last minute not to say what he was thinking. With a resigned sigh, he said, "Alright. But you'll be working from whatever command center we set up, guiding our movements around the Island. Is that clear?"

"We can live with that," Abby said before Shea could protest further. Detective Bates simply nodded and started down toward the docks.

"Thank you," Shea said. "Is Theresa getting the boat ready to sail?"

"You didn't hear? The bastard's got Theresa and another friend of mine, Ian Ryan. He's taken them both to the Island."

"I'm sorry," Abby said after a minute.

Aaron nodded. "It looks like I'm as invested in this as you two are, for better or worse."

"Are we going to stand around here talking all day, or are we going to get going," Shea said as she pushed past them and hurried down the dock.

Ten minutes later, _The Last Chance_ pulled out of the harbor and began to slowly make its way toward Harper's Island.


	11. The Troubles of Shea Allen

It took Shea Allen a grand total of fifteen minutes to lose her temper with Detective Bates and his team. Frankly, with the unceasing questions about her relationship with Madison and what had happened three years earlier on Harper's Island coming from all directions, she was surprised that it took her that long.

As she paced around the open area behind the cabin where the search and rescue team was gathered, trying to calm herself down she saw Abby leave the cabin.

"Are you ok?" she asked.

"No, I'm not," Shea said, fighting back tears. "Where do those people get the gall to ask questions like that?"

"They're just trying to help," Abby said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "They don't mean to be so insensitive."

"Yeah," Shea snapped. "I didn't hear them asking you anything about Jimmy."

Abby winced and blinked back tears, and Shea's demeanor instantly changed. "I'm sorry Abby. I know that you're going through the same thing I am." She walked to the railing and took a deep breath. "After we got back to Seattle three years ago, Madison didn't speak for the first eighteen months. Then she would only give me simple yes or no answers. That phase lasted another year. She's only been speaking in full sentences and smiling in the past few months."

She turned back to Abby and dried her eyes. "I can't watch her go through that again. It damn near killed me last time."

Abby walked over to her. "Madison's a tough girl. She'll make it through this. You'll see."

"I wish I could believe you," Shea said. "God knows I want to, but…"

Abby placed an understanding hand on her shoulder. "Stay out here as long as you need to. I'll handle the gorillas."

In spite of herself, Shea smiled. "Thanks Abby. I'll be fine as soon as all of this is over."

"So will I," Abby said. Then she turned and made her way back to the cabin.

Shea shook her head and turned toward the bridge, where Aaron Thomas was steering the boat by himself. Not wanting to remain alone, she made her way up the stairs to the bridge.

As she pushed the door open she was bombarded with Aaron's voice singing Billy Joel's _Uptown Girl_: "Uptown girl, you know I can't afford to buy her pearls, but maybe someday when my ship comes in, she'll understand what kind of guy I've been, and then I'll win."

Shea just stood there watching him. For a second she was reminded of how Trish would dance around singing when she was a kid. She could almost see her sister dancing around the cabin. The scene was made even more vivid by the fact that "Uptown Girl" was her favorite song.

As Aaron finished the song, he spun around and saw her standing in the doorway. Embarrassed, he stopped singing, pressed the stop button on the CD player on his waist, and removed his headphones.

"You're pretty good," Shea said with a grin.

"Not to hear Theresa tell it," Aaron said matching her grin. "She says I sound like a dying moose."

"I'm sorry to barge in on you like this," Shea said, stepping in and closing the door behind her, "but I couldn't stand all of the questions the police were asking me."

"It's okay," Aaron said. "Stay up here as long as you need." He picked up a small bowl from the dashboard and held it out to her. "Spearmint?"

She looked at the green and white candies in the bowl and shook her head. "No thanks. I can't stand those things. My sister loved them, though we never understood why."

"Really?" Aaron asked, returning the bowl and helping himself to one of the mints. "My family couldn't understand why I like them either. But then I have the excuse of being adopted."

Shea was surprised. "I didn't know you were adopted."

"I don't like to advertise it. I'm not thrilled by the fact that my mother and father didn't want me."

"I'm sure they had a good reason," Shea said, instantly regretting it as Aaron shot her a 'don't give me that' look. "Sorry. That was dumb of me."

Aaron smiled. "Forget it. You're not the first one to say it, and you won't be the last."

They stood in awkward silence for a minute before Aaron changed the subject. "Tell me about your sister."

This through Shea for a loop. "Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm curious," Aaron shrugged, as though he was uncomfortable with the truth. Shea shot him a 'don't give me that' look and he cracked. "I've only had one dream for the past year, and in it your sister asks me for help. I didn't know who she was until yesterday, when I saw her picture at your house. Abby told me who she was. So, I'd like to know a little more about her, unless I'm crossing a line, in which case I apologize."

Shea looked him over and decided that, as crazy as his story was, he seemed to be telling the truth. Even so, she wasn't sure she was ready to talk about her sister with him, so she said "Apology accepted."

"Fair enough," Aaron said grabbing another mint. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know," Shea said as she began pacing around the bridge. "Do you have anything to drink up here?"

"There's a couple of bottles of scotch in that cabinet over there," Aaron said, pointing over his shoulder to the far side of the bridge. "Glasses are in the second drawer."

She walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle and a glass. Upon hearing the clinking of the glass, Aaron said "Pour me one too, will you?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean you are our designated driver."

"J.T., my adopted father was a fisherman and he'd drink a glass of scotch every hour on the hour while at sea. It never once affected his ability to drive his boat."

"What finally happened to him," Shea asked as she pulled another glass out of the cabinet.

"He was washed over-board during a storm while bringing the boat back into the harbor."

"And you still think drinking and driving laws shouldn't apply to boats?"

"He wasn't driving that day. He was navigating, and he never drank while he was navigating."

Shea brought the drinks over and handed one to Aaron. "Did he want you to become a fisherman?"

"Not at first," Aaron said, taking a sip of his drink. "But there was only enough money to send Katelyn to school, and I had to learn some sort of trade. Since fishing was the only thing J.T. knew that's what he taught me. And the rest, as they say, is history."

Shea took a sip of her drink and asked, rather hesitantly, "Are you and Theresa a couple?"

Aaron chuckled. "No. Her brother and I were best friends in school and we worked together until he drowned off the coast of Harper's Island four years ago. I never could think of her in any other way but that."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No. Right now, Theresa's the only woman in my life." He took another sip of his scotch. "That's not to say that I haven't considered the possibility."

"Well, I hope you find someone."

"What about you?" Aaron asked.

Shea looked at him in surprise and he quickly retracted the question. "Sorry. I crossed that line again."

Shea shook her head. "Not this time. I was surprised because that was the one question that Abby hasn't asked me about my life since Harper's Island. The answer is no. I haven't found anyone and I'm not looking. Right now just having Madison is enough."

Aaron downed the last of his scotch and set the glass down. "You must be going through hell. I didn't sleep well last night, thinking about Theresa and Ian, and they've only been on the island for half-a-day. I can only imagine what it's been like for you after three weeks."

Shea finished her drink and went for the bottle. "I keep imagining the worst. Madison's all I have left and if I lose her...I don't know what I'll do."

"Hey," Aaron said turning around to face her. "Don't talk like that. Bates is the best in the business. I can't think of anyone I'd rather have on this case. He'll get Madison back, I promise."

"I wish I shared your confidence," she said, drinking the scotch she had just poured in one swallow. When she brought her head back down, she saw the island break through the fog. "There it is," she whispered.

Aaron turned around and stepped over to the CB radio. He turned it on and picked up the speaker. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. If you turn your attention to the front of the boat, you'll see our destination dead—make that straight—ahead." He took his finger off of the button for a second and then he added, "Welcome to Harper's Island."


	12. The Troubles of Rachel Martinelli

As she looked out across the bay at the Island in front of them, Rachel Martinelli felt a sense of excitement and dread come over her. She had been on the team that had tried to piece together the mess three years ago. It wasn't much of an investigation, since Henry Dunn had turned up dead a week later. The whole process consisted of collecting witness statements and confirming them as best as they could. Her part had been peripheral at best, simply typing reports and overseeing the transportation of one or two bodies from the dock to the morgue.

When she and Calvin had been called in as backup on the Allen kidnapping, she wondered if the case would lead them back to Harper's Island. She couldn't decide if she wanted it to or not. She had heard her fair share of ghost stories about the island since the massacre. Rachel wasn't superstitious, but she figured if ghosts did exist, then Harper's Island was probably crawling with them.

"Why would anyone want to bring hostages here?" Brian Mitchell asked.

Rachel fought the urge to hit him. "Because it's isolated, because it's abandoned, and because it has significance to some of us," she said, nodding toward Abby Mills who was standing silently in the far corner of the cabin, obviously trying to calm herself down.

"Okay, so we know the plan, right?" Kevin Palmer asked, bringing everybody back to reality.

"Yeah," Rachel said. "We make our way inland with Abby leading the way to the Sherriff's office. That's where we set up mission control. From there we divide into teams of two, with each team taking a part of the island, checking every building that Abby's pointed out to us. Then we move into the tunnels."

"That's right," Kevin nodded. "Any questions?"

"I've got one," Dennis MacAllister said. "Who's going to stay behind and watch the boat?"

"Aaron will," Bates said. "I'll talk to him after we get to the island."

"That's all well and good," April said, "but this perp's got his friends. How are you going to make sure he stays here?"

Bates considered this for a minute and said, "Brian will stay with him."

"What?!" Brian exclaimed. "Why me?"

"Because I need everyone else searching the island," Bates said keeping his voice calm. "We've all got jobs to do here, and yours is going to be making sure that Aaron Thomas does not leave this boat."

"But it's not fair," Brian whined.

This time Rachel did hit him. "Shut up," she snapped. "We're going into this operation with not nearly enough people, so when you are given a job, do it."

Brian glared at her, but stopped complaining.

"You'll have a radio, so we can get in touch with you if we need you," Bates reassured him. "Besides I'm going to need someone here in case we need to call in more back-up. I'd leave Aaron to it, but we'll get help faster if the request comes from someone with a badge."

Brian simply nodded. It was clear he wasn't happy about his assignment though. _Tough cookies,_ Rachel thought. _I'm not happy about mine either._ The thought of knocking on doors, looking for a kidnapper who was, at the very least, a little unbalanced didn't exactly fill her full of excitement, especially with what had happened the last time she had had a similar assignment.

It had been five years since that day, but every time she thought about it, it seemed more like last week. It was her first week as a detective and the murder case she and Calvin were working had led them to the house of a drug dealer. He wasn't a suspect, just a possible witness, but his chosen profession had made him paranoid. They had no sooner knocked on the door when he started shooting. Since they had no reason to anticipate trouble, they weren't wearing vests, and Rachel had been hit three times in the chest and stomach. Calvin had been hit twice, in the leg and shoulder. He had joked later about the fact that their man was a lousy shot, but at that moment all he could do was call for back-up and an ambulance, and return fire. In a few short minutes, the fire-fight was over, the suspect was cuffed, having been shot in the shoulder twice.

Rachel had lost consciousness sometime during the ambulance ride and woke up in a hospital room three days later. It took three months of psychological treatment for the department to determine her fit for duty, but the fear came back every time she had to take part in a raid. She was able to suppress it, but she was worried that one day it would become too much and she wouldn't be able to be a detective anymore.

"We're here," Aaron Thomas' voice said over the intercom, stirring Rachel from her thoughts. She stood and started to gather up the equipment (which consisted of ear-buds and speakers for communication, extra guns and ammunition, bullet proof vests, and Kevin Palmer's sniper rifle) as Abby Mills stepped outside to help tie up the boat. As she and the rest of the team stepped off of the boat and onto the abandoned dock, she heard Bates explaining to Aaron his plan for him and his boat. He wanted Aaron to take the boat out and anchor somewhere offshore and wait until they called him to come get them. Bates also explained that Brian would be staying.

Aaron took the news very well, much better than Rachel had thought he would. He agreed and helped them unload. Then he untied the boat and steered it out to sea.

"How did you get him to do that so willingly?" April asked Bates as the boat sailed away

"I asked him to trust me," he said. He then turned and said to Abby, "Lead the way, Miss Mills. We need to get to the sheriff's office as quickly as possible."

The trek through the woods was a quiet one, and they reached the sheriff's office in about half an hour. After clearing the building, Bates allowed them to enter. Then they quickly passed out the radios and set up a poor man's communications center (which consisted of four radios, each one tuned to a different frequency). Kevin gave Abby and Shea a crash course in how to use it as Rachel and the others strapped on their vests. Less than five minutes later, they had divided into three teams: April and Bates, Rachel and Calvin, Kevin and Dennis. April, Bates, Kevin, and Dennis had divided the town and houses amongst themselves which left the church, the Candlewick Inn, the lighthouse, and the house Henry had kept Abby in after he had revealed his true purpose in the massacre three years ago (all of which were on the northern end of the island) for Rachel and Calvin.

As they all prepared to leave, Bates turned to Shea and Abby. "I'm only going to say this once," he said. "I don't feel comfortable having you here. The only reason you're here at all is that you can guide us around this rock. Do not leave this building for any reason, is that clear? We don't need another hostage on our hands."

"We won't go anywhere," Abby said. "Just go find them."

"We will," Bates said. Turning to his team, he said, "Let's go."


	13. The Search Begins

_Six down, twelve to go,_ Kevin Palmer thought as he and Dennis MacAllister turned and made their way back downstairs of yet another house. He couldn't shake the feeling that splitting up into three teams was a bad idea, but he couldn't argue with the logic that they could cover more ground this way, thus limiting the likelihood that they would miss their suspect.

"There's got to be an easier way to do this," Dennis said as they stood in the kitchen catching their breath.

"Not with the resources we have. We simply don't have enough man power to do this the right way."

"I know," Dennis said with a sigh. "But going from house to house like this is insanely tedious."

"It's the only way we're going to flush him out," Kevin said, trying to mask his frustration. "Come on. We've got twelve more houses to cover, and I'd like to get them done before nightfall."

"Why," Dennis asked as he followed his partner out of the house. "You scared of ghosts or something?"

Kevin didn't say anything, but moved on to the next house. He wished there was some way that he could check in with the other teams, but the system they were able to scrounge up on such short notice allowed for only one way communication on the part of the teams. They could only talk to Abby and Shea in the sheriff's office who, in turn, could talk to any and all of them. Kevin hated going through a middle man. Or middle woman in this case.

_Oh well, _he thought. _SWAT 101_: _You do what you can with what you have_. "Abby? Shea? Do you copy?"

"We're here," Abby said a few short minutes later.

"Good. Can you get in touch with the others and see how their searches are coming?"

"Sure. Just give us a second."

"You didn't answer my question," Dennis said. "Why don't you want to be out at night?"

"I just don't want to be wandering around this rock at night, alright," Kevin said. "Can we keep the small talk to a minimum, please?"

"Sure. This is your party."

"Not mine," Kevin muttered to himself. "Come on."

They went through the next house before Abby finally got back to them. "Detectives Bates and Evans are about halfway through their and Detectives Williams and Martinelli have cleared the church and the house where…Henry Dunn's house. They're on their way to the lighthouse now. No sign of Jimmy, Madison and the others yet from either group."

"Thanks, Abby," Kevin said. "We'll find them."

"Detective Bates also wanted me to give you a message."

"What's that?"

"He wants you to keep the check in calls to a minimum."

"Noted. Thanks again Abby."

"Great. I guess we keep going, then," Dennis said. Kevin simply nodded and motioned for his partner to follow him.

Three hours and ten houses later they were no closer to finding the missing people or the person who had kidnapped them. Kevin checked in with the others once again, and again learned that they hadn't found anything either.

"Maybe they're in the tunnels," Dennis said.

"Maybe. If they are down there, we'll find them soon enough."

The last house on their list was Abby Mills' house. Or at least it was before the massacre three years ago. Kevin was fine with the fact that they were almost done as the sun was on its way down. As they had done all day, Kevin went in first and led the search of the downstairs. Then the two men went upstairs.

There was nothing much of interest in the various bedrooms along the landing. He did see pictures of a happy family all along the walls and he couldn't help but feel a bit cynical as he thought of what had happened to the smiling people staring at him from the many frames. He also wondered why Abby hadn't come back to claim any of her things from this house. He had a pretty good guess, but he still was curious. He would have to ask her when he got back to the sheriff's office.

After making sure the rooms were all clear, Kevin was ready to go back downstairs when Dennis tapped him on the shoulder. Kevin turned. Dennis pointed to something on the ceiling. He looked up and saw a handle in the ceiling. Dennis pulled on it and the door to the attic came down. Kevin quickly climbed the stairs and looked around the attic, with Dennis right behind him. He remembered hearing of Sheriff Mills' John Wakefield article collection that had been taken from here, so what he saw surprised him.

There were three corkboards full of newspaper articles. Upon closer inspection, Kevin saw that the first two were all about John Wakefield. The first spanned the seven years between the two killings. The second contained articles about the massacre three years ago and a handful of stories that had occurred since then, mostly about ghost sightings on the island from various tabloid papers.

The third board simply confused him. It was also full of newspaper articles, but these were about a pair of fishermen who had been washed overboard in a storm one year before the massacre. They spanned a little over six months, from the initial disappearance of the two men to an article declaring that the police had given up the search for the bodies and that memorial services were being held the next day.

What drew Kevin's attention were the names in the article. The two fishermen were named Simon and Michael James and the only surviving crew member was Aaron Thomas. "Why would this guy collect these articles?" Dennis asked. "The Wakefield stuff I get, but these?

"I don't know," Kevin said. "We'll have to ask Aaron. Maybe he can tell us."

"Maybe. Let's get back to the sheriff's office and ask him."

"Sure. Let's go."

Kevin was about to start down the stairs when he noticed that one of his boots had come untied. He stopped to tie it and told Dennis to wait for him outside. Dennis nodded and stepped around him and continued on.

Kevin was just started down the stairs as he heard Dennis open the door—followed almost instantly by a dull thud. Kevin drew his gun and hurried down the stairs and turned toward the door.

Dennis lay on the porch just outside the door. A man in a dark coat and hat holding an ax stepped over the body. He rolled Dennis over and then the figure raised the ax over his head and brought it down into Dennis MacAllister's chest with such force that it remained embedded in it.

"FREEZE!" Kevin shouted, pointing his gun at the figure in the doorway. The figure looked up, and Kevin, though he couldn't see his face, was sure that the man was smiling at him. He then turned and ran off of the porch toward the woods.

Kevin ran out the door, but the man was already gone. Kevin checked Dennis' neck for a pulse, but he knew it was useless. With the ax that deep in his chest, there was almost no chance that he was alive, and in the unlikely instance that he was, he would soon be dead.

There was only one thing left to do. "Abby?" he said into his radio. "We've got a very big problem."


	14. The Problems Multiply

The sun had set an hour ago and Brian Mitchell and Aaron Thomas had retreated to _The Last Chance_'s cabin for the night after spending the day circling Harper's Island looking for the boat the kidnapper had used to get his victims back to the island. Aaron stood at the sink shaving, while Brian paced the floor in frustration

"How can you shave at a time like this?" Brian asked incredulously

"Very carefully," Aaron replied as he ran his straight razor over his chin, removing the last of the shaving cream from his face.

"That's not what I meant," Brian said in frustration.

"I know what you meant," Aaron said, turning to the young policeman. "But it's not easy shaving with this thing."

"They haven't checked in for over three hours. Aren't you even a little concerned?"

"Of course I am. But there's nothing I can do about it from here, so I'm trying not to fret over it."

Brian threw his hands in the air in frustration and walked out onto the deck. Aaron sighed and followed.

"What's with you?" the fisherman asked. "You've been tense all day."

"It's nothing," Brian said.

"Liar," Aaron said simply. "And if you don't tell me, you can sleep out here tonight."

Brian glared at him and said, "If you must know, I really don't want to be here."

"Hell, none of us _want_ to be here," Aaron said. "We're here because we have to be."

"I don't mean at the island. I mean on this boat."

Aaron was taken aback by this. "Gee, I didn't know I was such bad company," he said.

"It's not you," Brian said quickly. "I agreed to come on this mission because I thought I could do some good. Instead I'm babysitting you, because Detective Bates is concerned that you might try to find your friends on your own."

They stood in silence for a minute before Aaron exploded. "What the _hell _is wrong with you?"

"Excuse me?" Brian asked.

"You heard me? Where do you get the gall to whine about this? You think it's easy for me to stay on this boat while my friends are on that island, with that bastard doing God knows what to them?"

"I didn't mean—"Brian began, but Aaron cut him off.

"And I don't get why you're whining so much anyway? Your name's going in the reports as being part of the team, so you'll get noticed for this. Hell, you may even get a promotion from this. So, unless you give me a damn good reason for why you're complaining, don't talk to me right now." With that, Aaron turned and started to walk back to the cabin.

"Wait," Brian called after him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. From it he retrieved a photograph, which he handed to Aaron. It was a picture of a red-haired woman in her twenties.

"Who is this?"

"My sister, Carrie," Brian said. "Well, half sister. Same father, different mothers."

"And this has what to do with your bitching?"

"Two years ago," Brian began, "Carrie was living in Chicago. Right before Halloween, she was abducted. The men who took her held her for nearly a week. I'll spare you the details, but let's just say that the nicest thing they did was finally kill her." He stopped, and Aaron could tell that he was fighting tears. After a minute, he continued. "I couldn't do anything to help her. I know I can help your friends, but I can't do anything about it from here. I feel as useless now as I did then."

Aaron handed the photograph back to Brian. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's okay. You're right; I have no right to complain about this. I may be on the sidelines, but you're in the bleachers."

"I never was one for sports metaphors," Aaron said, turning back to the cabin. "You coming?" he asked.

Before Brian could answer, the radio in the cabin crackled to life. "Aaron? Brian? Anyone there?" Norman Bates' voice said.

Aaron ran into the cabin and picked it up. "This is Aaron. What's up?" he said as Brian entered the cabin.

"Nothing good, I'm afraid." Bates said. "Dennis is dead."

"What?" Brian said. "How? When?" Aaron repeated these questions to Detective Bates.

"The bastard killed him about an hour ago. Drove an axe into his chest. We're in over our heads here. I need Brian to call for back-up. Have him get the coast guard, police, anyone he can think of up here now."

Aaron turned to Brian. "The radio's on the bridge." Brian shot him a look of confusion. "Upstairs." Aaron said pointing toward the ceiling.

"Right," Brian said and he ran out the door.

"So what's the update on the search?" Aaron asked.

"We haven't found them yet, but we haven't searched the tunnels yet." Detective Bates hesitated, as though there was something that he didn't want to say. Aaron however knew his friend well enough to sense this.

"What's on your mind, Bates?"

"This guy's proven that he has no problem killing anyone who gets in his way, and that includes cops. I think that we've seriously underestimated this guy and his psychosis. If we don't get a lot of help soon we're sunk."

"I hear you. There's still…" Aaron trailed off as he had a thought that terrified him.

"Aaron? You still there?"

"Yeah, but I think we're in it deeper than you think," Aaron said as he walked out of the cabin

"What do you mean?"

"Brian and I spent the day circling the island trying to find the boat this guy used to get to and from Seattle. We couldn't find anything and we assumed that he had hidden it. But what if he scuttled it?"

"Scuttled?" Detective Bates asked, confused.

"Sank it. What if he sank his boat?"

There was silence as Detective Bates pondered this theory. "That would mean that he doesn't need to leave the island any more. Whatever he's got planned, it's going to play out here."

"Right," Aaron said. "That means that he isn't going to want us to leave either. Which means that Brian and I are sitting ducks out here."

At that moment Aaron's cell phone rang. Checking the caller ID, he saw that it was Theresa's cell phone, the same number that the Apostle had called him on last night. He told Bates and then answered.

"Hello?"

"How goes the search?" the same deep voice from the night before said.

"You know damn well. You killed a cop."

"Oh, that. Well, someone had to be first. But who will be next?" the Apostle teased.

"Listen, you bastard, if you hurt them, I'll—"

"You'll what? Kill me? I seriously doubt that."

"What do you want?" Aaron asked, fighting his anger.

"Oh, nothing much. Just a warning. I wouldn't try calling for help if I were you," the Apostle said. Then, with a laugh, he hung up.

"What did he want?" Detective Bates asked.

"I can't talk right now," Aaron said, dropping the radio on the dock and running to the stairs. As he approached them, he called out "Brian! Don't touch the—"

At that moment the bridge exploded, the force of it sending Aaron flying into the bay.


	15. The Night Darkens

Aaron wasn't sure how long he was under water, but when he finally managed to get his bearings and surface, he saw that _The Last Chance_ was almost completely engulfed in flames. Even so, it took him a moment to remember exactly what had happened.

His head felt like it was on fire. He ran his fingers over it and realized that he had a rather large cut on his forehead, just below his hairline.

Looking back toward the boat, Aaron couldn't help but feel a mixture of dread and relief: Dread because of the obvious implications that came with no longer having a boat in this situation and relief because he had long been planning to quit the fishing business, but had lacked a solid excuse.

He instantly shook this thought from his mind. There were more pressing matters at hand for the moment. First things first, he had to get to the island and call for help. He took one last look at the vessel that had been his livelihood for the last eight years slowly sink into the bay. As he turned to make his way toward the island, one last thought entered his head: _Theresa's going to kill me_.

* * *

"Aaron?" Calvin Williams heard Bates call into the radio for the tenth time since it went silent. He was standing at the base of the lighthouse, waiting for Rachel to come back down from searching the upper levels. He would have gone up with her, but he had a thing with heights. Rachel was the only one who knew and had volunteered to search the lighthouse herself. Though he made it clear he had a problem with this, he also knew that he would have been useless in there if they had found the man (if it was indeed a man) responsible for this.

The worry in Bates' voice matched the worry in his own mind. The silence on the radio made him nervous, as did the overwhelming silence on the island. There were no birds, no crickets, nothing. It was as if Harper's Island was dead. And given what had happened here, the thought wasn't at all improbable.

"Aaron, answer me," Bates said again. This time, however there was an answer. "He's not going to answer, sir," Rachel's voice said. She sounded like she was fighting a panic.

"What do you mean?" Bates asked.

"The boat's gone. It exploded, burned and sank. Even if Brian and Aaron made it off in time, the radio is probably on its way to the bottom of the bay right now."

There was a silence as deafening as the one around him. Calvin quickly grabbed his radio to relieve it. "There's no reason to assume the worst yet," he said. "We should carry on with the plan. If Brian and Aaron made it off the boat, they'll head for the sheriff's station. In the mean time, I suggest we continue on with our plan to search the tunnels."

"I agree," Bates said after a minute of contemplation. "You and Rachel head to the Candlewyck Inn, clear it, then use the entrance there to head into the tunnels. April and I will use the one in the church. Kevin, have Abby and Shea show you where the third entrance is. Then seal it off somehow. If Brian shows up, head through that entrance and search the rest of the tunnels. Alright?"

"Got it," Kevin said. "I'll see you on the other side."

"Ok. Calvin, you and Rachel will be on channel three. April and I will be on channel two. Kevin, you monitor both from the Sheriff's office. If Brian shows, you two will take channel four. Just give us a heads up before coming down. Is that understood?"

A chorus of yessirs rang over the radio. Then, once again, the night fell into an uneasy silence.

* * *

As Aaron pulled himself out of the water and onto the dock, he realized just how out of shape he was. The swim had almost completely drained him of his energy and he had to lay on the dock for what seemed like hours before he even had the strength to stand.

When he finally did, what he saw before him gave him pause. The forest-which during the daytime had been slightly intimidating-now seemed outright threatening. Aaron wasn't sure if it was because of what had happened in the past—or what was happening now.

He wished he had taken a better look at the maps for the island. He knew he needed to get to the sheriff's office, but he didn't know where it was, and he didn't want to wander around the island alone in the dark as long as there was a killer on the loose; a killer who had already proven that he had no problem with killing policemen. _On the other hand_, he thought, _I can't stand here all night waiting for the same thing. And if I at least try to find the others I have a chance. A slim one admittedly, but a chance nonetheless. _So he started toward the forest.

As he approached the tree line and began along a now almost completely overgrown forest path, he felt more and more like he was being watched. He forced himself to keep moving, telling himself that it was all in his head. The further along he walked however, the harder it became to convince himself.

Each step he took seemed to echo forever, and when he stopped to calm himself, the silence echoed even longer. He was about to start moving again when a flash of white on the path ahead of him caught his eye.

"Hello?" he called, cautiously. There was no answer. Slowly he started down the path. After about a hundred yards, he saw the flash of white again. This time it was close enough that he could make out the vague shape of a human body. "Hello?" he called again. "Bates? April? Theresa?" Still there was no answer from whoever was in front of him, a thought that both relieved and terrified him.

Aaron continued along the path, catching a glimpse of the person in front of him every few yards. Each time he called out to it, and each time there was no answer. Despite the fact that he didn't know where he was going, he had an overwhelming urge to follow whoever it was. When it turned left, he turned left. When it went right, he went right. Part of him knew it was stupid to keep this up, but a small voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that it was okay.

Before he knew it, Aaron found himself in a clearing in front of a very large, very rundown hotel. There was no sign of whoever it was he had been following anywhere. Feeling frustrated, and a little scared, he turned and started back down the path, hoping to find his way to the sheriff's office.

He hadn't gone very far when he saw the white flash again, and again he had the overwhelming urge to follow it. Before long he found himself standing in the clearing again. This time, however, he felt as though someone—or something—was calling him in. Even so, he wasn't about to wander into this hotel alone. For a third time, he turned back into the woods and for a third time the figure in white led him back to the hotel.

As Aaron stood staring at the abandoned structure in front of him, debating his next move, a flash of lightening lit up the clearing and hotel. He saw the figure in white standing on the front porch leaning against the railing. Even from his distance, he could clearly see that it was Trish Wellington in her wedding dress.

Suddenly it began to rain heavily. Not knowing what else to do, Aaron took off across the clearing to the hotel. When he made it to the porch, he found Trish there to greet him in the doorway. "Welcome to Harper's Island," she said with a grin.


	16. The Ghosts of Harper's Island

Aaron stood staring at the figure before him, questions flooding his mind. At last, he managed to stammer out one: "How…?"

"I'll explain inside," Trish said. When he didn't move, she motioned toward the now open front door. "Please, Aaron. Let's get out of the rain."

"How do you know my name?"

"I'll explain everything inside, I promise." She again motioned toward the open door. "Please. You'll just catch pneumonia out here."

Aaron gave her a long look before turning and entering the hotel. The bar/lounge to his left was the only room with any lighting. A few lamps were dimly lit and there was a fire in the fireplace. After taking a quick look around, Aaron slowly began to walk toward room. As he entered a voice came from the direction of the bar. "You want something to drink?" Aaron turned and saw a blonde woman wiping down a glass behind the bar.

Aaron felt even more confused. "Who are you?"

"Chloe Carter," she said. "It's nice to meet you, Aaron," offering her hand to him. He just stared at her. "Are you going to shake my hand or not?" she asked.

"No," Aaron said, walking toward the bar. "But I will take a Scotch. I have a funny feeling I'm going to need it."

"Coming right up," Chloe said, grabbing a bottle from under the bar and pouring its contents in the glass which she then placed on the bar in front of him.

"So," she said as he picked up the glass and took a sip, "you come here often?"

"I'm sorry," Aaron said, putting the drink down. "What the hell is going on here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're dead," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "Trish is dead. That means I'm either dead or crazy. And given where I am, I'm not ready to rule out either option!" By this time he was shouting, his voice echoing throughout the empty building.

"There's no need to shout," a man's voice said from behind him. Turning, Aaron saw a young man with blonde hair sitting in one of the chairs on the far side of the lounge—a chair that Aaron was sure had been empty when he had entered the room.

"And you are…?" Aaron asked.

"Chris Sullivan," the young man said as he stood. "But everyone calls me—called me— Sully."

"That's it," Aaron said, turning back to his drink. "I've officially lost my mind."

"No you haven't," Sully said. "And you're not dead either."

"Then please explain to me how I can see you."

"Pick a theory: Sixth sense, near-death experience, whatever."

"Sixth sense?" Aaron asked skeptically.

"Sure," Chloe said. "Like the movie."

"Right," Aaron said. "So in this scenario, I'm Haley Joel Osment, you're Bruce Willis," he said pointing to Sully. Turning to Chloe he added "And you… I honestly don't know how you work into this one. I haven't seen that movie in a while."

"You're getting your sense of humor back," a new voice said from the far corner of the room. Upon turning, Aaron saw a young black man leaning against the far wall. "That's a good sign."

Aaron downed the rest of his drink and set the glass down on the bar. Turning back to the room, he said, to no one in particular, "Are there any more ghosts in here waiting for me to turn my back so you can pop up and impress me? Because if there is, just show yourselves and get it over with. I don't have time to waste with cheap theatrics."

No sooner had these words left his mouth when Trish Wellington appeared in the center of the room.

"Is this all of you?" Aaron asked Trish.

"Yes," Trish said walking toward him. "That's Danny Brooks, and I get the feeling that you already know who I am. And for the record, we are not ghosts, and our theatrics are not cheap."

"Well, excuse me," Aaron said. "But I know for a fact that you died three years ago, and yet here you are."

"If I was a ghost," Trish said with a grin as she approached him, "could I do this?" She then slapped him as hard as she could across the face, causing him to take a step backward. There was a not-so-well hidden snicker from someone in the room. Aaron had a strong suspicion that it was Sully.

"What the hell was that for?" Aaron asked as he shot a glare around the room.

"Don't take it personally," Danny said. "She's been wanting to do that to someone living for three years."

"I'm glad I could help," Aaron said sarcastically. Turning back to Chloe, he said, "Another scotch. Put it on my tab."

Chloe turned to Trish who nodded. "And keep them coming," she said.

"Actually, two's my limit," Aaron said. "And given the circumstances, I think I'm pushing my luck with two."

Chloe placed the glass in front of him and then glanced to Trish who nodded. "Two it is," the blonde said, putting the bottle back beneath the bar. She then walked back around to the lounge portion of the room with Sully and Danny.

After taking a sip of his scotch, Aaron broke the silence. "So," he said, turning to Trish. "You're obviously the ring leader of this little band. Maybe you can fill me in on some details that I'm obviously missing."

"I'll do my best, but I can't guarantee that I will be able to give you all the answers you seek."

"Fair enough. Let's start with something simple: If you're not ghosts, what exactly are you?"

"That's not as simple as you think," Trish said. "Basically, we're the physical representation of the souls of the people you see."

"I thought that's what the body was."

"No. The body is the vessel that carries the soul throughout life. When the body dies, the soul leaves it and crosses over to heaven or hell depending on how good or bad you were during your life. We are the souls of Trish, Sully, Chloe, and Danny respectively."

"So you're not actually Trish?"

"Yes and no. I am essentially everything that made Trish…well, Trish."

"You see, Aaron," Chloe said, "the soul is what makes you who you are. It is constantly changing based on the choices and experiences that make up your life. We're all that's left of, well us."

"Ok, so you're souls without bodies," Aaron said, more to himself than anyone else. Chloe nodded anyway. Aaron quickly downed the rest of his scotch and stood. "Maybe I will need some more," he said as he made his way around the bar. He quickly found the bottle Chloe had been pouring from and refilled his glass.

"Alright, next question: How do you know who I am?" Aaron asked.

"Being disembodied souls, as you so delicately put it, gives us certain knowledge that we didn't have during our mortal lives," Sully explained.

"Alright then, what can you tell me about what's going on here?"

"What do you mean?" Danny said.

"Don't play stupid with me. You just admitted that you were omniscient. If you want my help, I need to know what I'm up against."

"Who says we need your help?" Sully asked, a little indignant.

"Did I not just ask you to not play stupid? Why would you appear to me and attempt to explain to me what you are if you don't need me for something?"

The four of them exchanged glances. "He's good," Chloe said with a grin.

"It's a long story Aaron," Trish said.

"Then shorten it," Aaron snapped. "I've got friends on this rock that need my help. So do you, as a matter of fact."

"What do you mean?" Trish asked.

"What is it with you people and playing stupid? Madison and Jimmy have been kidnapped and brought here by some psychopath. Shea, Abby, and a small group of police detectives are here to try to find them. Are you seriously going to try to tell me that you don't know about this?"

A series of exchanged panicked glances told him that they hadn't known. Instantly his demeanor changed. "What's going on here?" he pleaded. "If you won't tell me so I can help my friends, tell me so I can help yours."

No one said anything, but they all exchanged glances that told him they were debating amongst themselves. "Please," Aaron continued. "People are dying again. I don't know who's behind this, but he's already proven that he has no problem killing policemen. He will not hesitate to kill Shea, Abby, Jimmy, Madison, or any of my friends. Tell me what's happening. Maybe I can stop it, or at least help the police stop it. No one else has to die."

"Trish we have to tell him," Danny said. "Do it for Shea and Madison if for no other reason."

Trish sighed and nodded. She then turned to Aaron. "There is one question you haven't asked: Why are we still here? Why didn't we cross over when we—our bodies—died?"

Aaron considered this and then said, "Okay, I'll bite: Why?"

"The same reason that our friends have been kidnapped; the same reason that people are being killed again: John Wakefield."


	17. The Curse of Harper's Island

"I'm sorry," Aaron said, "but I must have water in my ears or something. I could have sworn you just said John Wakefield was behind all of this."

"Yeah," Danny said. "And?"

"And that's not possible. Wakefield is dead. They cremated his body and chucked the urn into the bay."

"So?" Sully asked. "Haven't you been paying attention? _Bodies_ die, Aaron. _Souls_ don't. We're still here because Wakefield's soul is still here."

"Right," Aaron said, pouring more scotch into his glass. "But if he's a disembodied soul, how can he do any of this stuff? How can he kidnap and murder people?"

"Well, disembodied souls can physically touch living human beings," Trish said. "I slapped you earlier remember? But even simple touches like a slap take an insane amount of energy."

"Wow," Aaron said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Way to not answer my question."

"The point is," Chloe said, "in order for Wakefield to pull this stuff off, he would need a body. And he's found one."

"How?" Aaron asked. "I mean, are we talking some kind of demonic possession or what?"

"We don't know," Sully said, flopping down in one of the lounge chairs. "Frankly we didn't even think it was possible until a little over two years ago. That's when we became aware that Wakefield's evil was moving around the island again."

"So what does this mean?"

"Well, it means that Wakefield is just as dangerous now as he was three years ago," Trish said. "Probably even more so if he's pissed over his son's betrayal."

"It also means that he has to be stopped," Chloe said. "Soon, and by someone living."

Aaron's head was swimming. He looked at the drink in front of him and pondered if this was somehow a delayed reaction to all the alcohol he had drunk over the past ten years. When he looked back up, he realized that the four souls were staring at him. It took him a second to realize why.

"Wait, you mean _me_?" Aaron asked. "How the hell am I going to stop him? He's a freakin' psychopath! He'll rip me apart!"

"No he won't," Trish said. "We won't let him."

"And how can you protect me?" Aaron asked, panic causing his voice to jump up an octave. "You're disembodied souls. What can the four of you possibly do to protect me from John Wakefield, or whoever is behind this?"

"Oh, there are more than four of us," Chloe said. "There are about thirty or so of us poor, unfortunate souls hiding on this god-forsaken rock. We figured you'd handle this better if only a few of us showed up at a time."

"Fine," Aaron said downing the last of the scotch in front of him. "So how do the thirty of you plan to protect me from this bastard?"

"We have ways," Danny said, walking back over toward the window.

"And I don't suppose any of you are going to share what those ways are?" Aaron said

"It's kind of need-to-know," Sully said.

"And I don't need to know, right?" Aaron asked, the sarcasm back in his voice. "You guys are really good with not answering questions, you know that? Anyway it doesn't matter, because we've got bigger fish to fry."

"What do you mean?" Chloe asked.

"Look I'm all for stopping this guy, even though I don't think I'm the man you want on that job, but right now, the son-of-a-bitch has four hostages, remember? That gives him a lot of leverage over the rest of us. Before we try to take this bastard down, we need to take away his bargaining chips. Is that okay with you?"

"I don't suppose you have a plan for doing that?" Sully said.

"The cops I brought with me have already searched the town and the lighthouse. They didn't find anything, so that means the hostages are probably in the tunnels. There's an entrance here in the hotel, so one or two of the cops should be here any minute now."

Sully scoffed, but Danny, who had been looking out the window, spoke up. "Looks like he's right. I got a man and woman coming up the hill."

"Can you tell what they look like?" Aaron asked.

"Not really," Danny said. "I think the woman has dark hair, but I can't be sure."

"It's probably Calvin Williams and Rachel Martinelli," Aaron said, feeling relieved for the first time since he dragged himself out of the bay. Then a question occurred to him. "Will they be able to see you guys?"

"Probably not," Sully said. "You've had two near death experiences, which is why you can see and talk to us. Even being cops, I doubt they've had that many close calls."

"Before you go wandering off into the tunnels," Chloe said, turning to Aaron "you're going to need some kind of weapon."

"What do you have in mind?" Aaron said

"There should be one or two of the shotguns they used for skeet shooting in the storage room behind the front desk, along with a couple of boxes of shells. No one came back for any of that stuff after the massacre."

Aaron nodded and quickly made his way around the bar and out into the main lobby. He made his way around the front desk and forced the storage closet door open. Inside he found all sorts of sports equipment, including tennis rackets, a pair of broken fishing poles, and various board games. On the back wall was a gun rack with three skeet shooting guns. On a shelf above them were two boxes of shells. He grabbed one of each and hurried out of the closet.

He was greeted by two flashlights in his eyes and a pair of voices shouting at him to put the gun and shells down, which he did.

"Aaron?" Rachel said as one of the lights was lowered.

"It's nice to see you, too," Aaron said, as he shielded his eyes from Calvin's flashlight. "I don't suppose you could get that light out of my face?"

"Yeah," Calvin said as he lowered his flashlight. "Sorry about that."

"Aaron, what are you doing here?" Rachel asked. "I saw the boat explode. We kind of feared the worst."

"Yeah, I made it. The blast knocked me into the bay and I swam to shore. I got turned around in the woods and wound up here. Brian wasn't so lucky. He was right in the middle of the explosion."

"Do you have any idea how it happened?" Calvin asked.

"I think there was a bomb in the radio. It must have gone off when Brian tried to call for help."

"Do you think he managed to make the call?"

"I doubt it. He wasn't on the bridge more than five minutes before it exploded. I'm sorry."

"Alright," Rachel said. "We'll take you back to the sheriff's office. You can wait for us there."

"What?" Aaron asked. "No way! I'm going with you."

"No you're not," Calvin said firmly. "You're going to wait in the sheriff's office with Kevin."

"If you take me to the sheriff's office, you risk the guy sneaking out through this entrance and getting away. I'm asking you not to waste time like that."

"Well, we're not taking a civilian into the tunnels," Rachel said, "so your options are to stay in the hotel, or go to the sheriff's office."

"If you take me to the sheriff's office, you waste valuable time. If you leave me here, one of you has to stay with me to keep me safe and out of the tunnels. I'm not saying that I'm happy about this, but taking me into the tunnels is the only option you have under the circumstances."

Rachel looked at Calvin, who immediately began protesting. "I'm not bringing an unarmed civilian into a situation with this level of potential danger!"

"What do you think I was going to do with that shotgun? I won't be unarmed, and with that thing I can defend myself."

Calvin threw his hands in the air. "Fine," he said and walked around the front desk. He grabbed a key from underneath the desk and headed up the stairs. "Where's he going?" Aaron asked Rachel.

"He's checking the rooms upstairs, making sure they're empty. Before hitting the tunnels, we're going to do the same thing down here."

Aaron nodded and retrieved the gun from the floor where he had placed it. "That makes sense," he said as he loaded the gun. "But I've been here for somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes and no one's tried to kill me yet."

"Nevertheless, it's SOP in this situation."

"Fine," Aaron said as he cocked the shotgun and put several extra shells into his pocket. "Lead the way."

Forty minutes later, Rachel and Aaron met Calvin in the kitchen. "This goes against every fiber of better judgment in my body," the older policeman said. "But you're right—this is the only option given how few men we have. So stay behind Rachel and stay sharp. I'll bring up the rear. And Aaron," he said looking the fisherman in the eye. "Don't make me regret this."

Aaron nodded. "Let's do this," he said raising the gun. Calvin turned and opened the door to the tunnel.


	18. The Search Continues

As she led the way down the stairs into the tunnels, Rachel Martinelli was doing everything in her power to keep her wits about her. A few hours ago she may have been able to handle going into these tunnels, but now she wasn't so sure. It takes a special kind of psychopath to kill a cop, let alone two. And what scared Rachel even more was that she couldn't shake the feeling that this was far from over—and that more people were going to die before they caught this bastard.

"You okay?" a voice whispered from behind her. She glanced back to Aaron and gave him a quick nod. She had to admit that she agreed with Calvin's hesitancy about bringing Aaron down here. She also knew that having an extra gun in these tunnels wasn't a bad idea. She was going to have to have a serious talk with Detective Bates about the lack of man power on this operation.

As Rachel reached the bottom of the stairs, she shone her flashlight on the ground and saw several sets of footprints leading off into the tunnel. "Someone's been down here recently," she said to the two men behind her. She then stepped off of the stairs and began to follow the prints.

After a while, the tunnel split at a T-intersection. The footprints went down both tunnels, each set equally fresh, each made not more than a couple of hours before or after the other.

"Which way do we go?" Aaron asked in a hoarse whisper.

"I don't know," Rachel said. "It looks like he's been down both tunnels in the last few hours. Your friends could be down either one, and we don't have time to search both."

"We do if we split up," Calvin said.

Rachel turned and looked him in the eyes. She did not like searching places by herself. In fact, since she got shot, Calvin had been there to back her up and talk her through every search. Granted she had searched the lighthouse by herself, but that was because she knew Calvin would have been less than useless in the lighthouse tower. She needed him down here with her.

"I don't like this idea," she said. "Splitting up and going off alone cannot end well."

"You won't be alone," Calvin said, stepping forward and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You and Aaron go one way and I'll go the other."

"That still leaves one of us going off alone," Rachel protested.

"It's a risk we have to take," Calvin said. "There's no other way we can search both tunnels without having to back track and wasting valuable time."

"What if the tunnel splits again?" Aaron asked.

"We'll leap off that bridge if and when we get to it," Calvin said.

"Please," Rachel pleaded. She had not truly realized until now just how much she needed him. Calvin had been the only thing keeping her from reverting to the state of PTSD she was in for weeks after the shooting. She blinked back tears and said again, "Please."

Calvin smiled and placed his hand gently on the side of her head. "You can't always depend on me to be there for you. Sooner or later, I'm not going to be around anymore. You need to stand on your own two feet. I know you have it in you. Now's your chance to show me."

"I can't," Rachel said, the tears coming more readily. "Not here. Not now. Maybe when we get back to Seattle, but not now."

"Yes, here and now." Calvin said with a gentle firmness that caused the tears to stop instantly. "The best and truest tests of character come under the worst pressure."

Rachel smiled, almost unwillingly. She nodded and said, "Okay. But if I can't do it, you are buying me a case of beer."

"Deal," Calvin said.

Suddenly a noise came from beside them. Aaron was clearing his throat. "As fascinating as this Hallmark moment is," he said, barely containing the sarcasm in his voice, "I really don't think Ian and Theresa can wait for much longer. If we're going to do this, let's do this."

"Right," Calvin said. "I'll go this way," he said, indicating the tunnel to the left. "You two go that way. Stay in radio contact, okay."

"Right," Rachel said.

"Good luck," Aaron said with a nod.

"Same to you," Calvin said. He then turned and made his way down the tunnel. Rachel watched him for a minute and then turned and started down the other, Aaron Thomas right at her heels.

They walked in silence for a few minutes until Aaron spoke up. "So what was all that about?"

"What was what about?" Rachel asked, in what she hoped was a tone of innocence.

"You and Calvin," Aaron said. "That little borderline nervous breakdown you had back there."

Rachel sighed. "I was shot on the job about five years ago. Calvin was there to keep me from going into shock." She took a deep breath and continued. "Even with the months of psychological and physical therapy, I still get nervous when I have to clear any building. Calvin has always been there to help me keep my head. I guess I'd gotten to a point where I was depending on it a little more than I realized."

Aaron nodded and lapsed into an uneasy silence. After a few minutes, he stopped.

"What is it?" Rachel asked.

"I thought I saw something. Bring your light back over here," he said. She walked over and stood next to him. He was staring at a spot on the floor near the wall, so that was where she directed her light. She quickly saw what had captured his interest—something metal was reflecting the light.

"What is that?" Rachel asked as Aaron dropped to one knee to examine the object. As he brushed the dirt off of it, he stopped and a look of confusion spread over his face. He slowly picked it up and began to examine it more closely.

"What is it?" Rachel asked again.

"It's a saint medal. Saint Andrew the Apostle, patron saint of fishermen."

"Are you sure?"

"I ought to be," he said, reaching down his shirt and pulling out a similar medal. "I've been wearing one for damn near fifteen years."

Rachel was confused. "So?" she asked.

"Well," Aaron said as he stood, "I know a good number of the fishermen who use the bay and the surrounding waters. I've only ever seen three other fishermen wear this medal in all my time sailing these waters."

"Who?" Rachel asked, suddenly intrigued.

"Theresa and her father and brother, Simon and Michael. It's sort of a tradition for the crew of _The Last Chance_ to wear them. They're sort of a good luck charm."

"So whose is it?"

"That's easy enough to find out," Aaron said. "Each medal has the initials of the owner engraved on the back. So..." He turned the medal over and held it under the light. Rachel could barely see the initials _SJ_ engraved in the back of the medal. She glanced back up at Aaron and saw that he was staring at the medal with a mix of horror and confusion spread across his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked

"This medal belonged to Simon James, Theresa's father," Aaron said quietly, his eyes rising to meet hers. "But that's impossible considering he drowned four years ago."

"Are you sure?"

"He and Michael were washed overboard in a storm about a mile or so off the coast of this island four years ago. We searched for a month, but we never found their bodies, so we assumed they were dead."

"So how did Simon's Saint Andrew medal end up down here?"

"That's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Aaron said.

They were stirred from their thoughts by a noise coming from down the tunnel. It sounded like someone was banging on something. "What was that?" Aaron asked.

"I don't know," Rachel said. She picked up the radio. "Calvin, come in." she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"What's up, Rachel?" Calvin's voice said calmly through the radio.

"We've got a strange noise coming from down the tunnel. We're going to check it out."

"Alright," Calvin said. "Be careful."

"You too," She said. "Rachel out." Then, taking a deep breath to calm her nearly fried nerves, Rachel started down the tunnel with Aaron right behind her.


	19. The Hostages

Quick Announcement: I've seen in alot of your reviews that you are working on theories about how this story is going to turn out. I'm kind of curious about what you think is going to happen, so I started a discussion forum for that purpose. You can post theories on who's going to die next, who's going to survive, and who the killer is. I'd love to hear what you think is going to happen so please post. Thanks for your time.

* * *

The closer they got to the mysterious banging noise, the more nervous Rachel became. Within minutes, her heart was pounding so hard that she could barely hear the banging.

A few minutes later the noise stopped. Instantly Rachel wished it would start again. The silence that settled in was so heavy that she could barely breathe. "What do you think it is?" she whispered to Aaron.

"I don't know," he whispered back. "Let's just keep moving."

They walked a little farther before coming to another intersection. "Which way do we go?" Aaron asked.

Rachel shook her head. "I don't know," she said.

Then, just to add to the overall creepiness of the moment, the banging started again. With the echo of the tunnel, it seemed to be coming from both directions at once.

"This is ridiculous," Aaron muttered. Then he shouted over the noise "WHO'S THERE?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Rachel hissed.

"Trying to figure out which way to go," Aaron said, as though it should have been obvious. Then he turned, stepped into the middle of the intersection, and started shouting again. "HEY, IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, LET ME KNOW WHERE YOU ARE!"

Rachel stepped out and grabbed his arm. "Are you trying to get us killed?" she asked. "What if it's the guy who's been killing people?"

"I doubt it. This guy's whole M.O. is based on secrecy, sneaking around and avoiding being seen. And you've got to admit, it's been working for him. So why would he change that now?"

Rachel had to admit that his argument made sense. The little bit of profiler training she'd had told her that once a killer found a M.O. that worked, they weren't likely to change it unless they were under pressure, like when the police were closing in. And they were nowhere near being able to apply that kind of pressure. Still, shouting like that in these tunnels was a bad idea. Before Rachel could try to talk Aaron down, the banging stopped.

Without a moment's hesitation, Aaron started shouting again. "IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, DON'T START BANGING AGAIN!" There was a minute of silence before a voice came from down the left branch of the tunnel. It sounded muffled as though it was coming from behind a door or a wall. "Aaron? Is that you?"

They both turned and looked down the tunnel. Rachel was about to ask Aaron if he knew who it was, when he called down the tunnel, "Ian?"

"Yeah, man it's me!" the voice called out. "Thank God. It's good to hear your voice again."

"I know the feeling buddy," Aaron called, a look of relief spreading over his face. "I'm here with the cops. We're going to get you out of here, I promise."

"Ian," Rachel called, fighting to keep her voice steady, "this is Rachel Martinelli. I'm a detective with a Seattle Police Department. Can you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Now, I need you to tell me if anyone else is with you."

"Oh, right," Ian said, as though he had forgotten about anyone else until that moment. "There are three other people here with me: Theresa James, Jimmy Mance, and Madison Allen."

"That's great," Rachel called. "We're coming to get you, just sit tight."

"It doesn't get much tighter than this," Ian said.

Aaron grinned and started down the tunnel at a quick pace. Rachel grabbed her radio and hurried to keep up. "Calvin, we've found them. Head back down the tunnel and when you come to another intersection head left. They're somewhere down that left tunnel."

As Aaron ran down the tunnel he kept calling for Ian, trying to get a fix on where he and the others were. Suddenly the tunnel came to a dead end. "Ian, where are you?' Aaron called.

"I'm here." Ian's voice seemed to be coming from the wall in front of them.

"Must be a secret room," Rachel said. "These tunnels were built during prohibition, so they're full of hidden rooms and passages." She then holstered her pistol, stepped forward, and began to feel the wall for a release of some kind. "Check the other walls," she said over her shoulder to Aaron.

"What am I looking for?" he asked as he began to search the wall to the left of the dead end.

"Some sort of release that will open this door."

"Right," he said as he turned back to the wall.

Rachel continued to run her hands over the wall, examining each brick closely. She was nearly finished with the wall when she found it. In the last column of bricks on the far right side of the wall, roughly halfway between the floor and the ceiling, she found that one of the bricks was loose. She pushed it as hard as she could and it gave way ever so slightly. Apparently that was enough because the center third of the wall swung outward slightly, forming a door.

"That's it!" Ian called from behind the wall.

"Help me with this," she said to Aaron as she grabbed the door and pulled. She heard Ian on the other side rallying the others to push, and between the two groups, they had the door open in less than five minutes.

When she brought her flashlight up, Rachel saw four figures standing in the doorway shielding their eyes from the light. Ian and Theresa were standing side by side looking dirty and a little rattled, but otherwise okay. Aaron pushed past her and hugged them both.

Jimmy and Madison on the other hand looked like they had been through hell. Jimmy hadn't shaved in at least a month and had a few partially healed cuts and bruises on his face. When he stepped out of the small room, Rachel noticed that he walked with a limp. Madison looked physically fine save a split lip and a small cut just over her left eye. Her mental state was a different matter entirely. She seemed distant and was staring straight ahead, but she didn't seem to see anything.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asked, instantly feeling like an idiot for asking. _They've been held prisoner in the dark for a month. Of course they're not okay_, she thought.

Jimmy didn't seem to mind though as he nodded. "We are now," he said in a hoarse voice, as though he hadn't used it in a while. "Tell me there's more to this rescue party than just you two," he said.

"Yeah," Aaron said. "There's a team of policemen here, along with Abby and Shea."

A mix of fear and relief washed over Jimmy's face. "Abby's here?" he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Rachel nodded. "And she's really anxious to see you, so let's get moving."

They all nodded their agreement and started back down the tunnel. Rachel was leading the group, followed by Jimmy and Madison, then Ian and Theresa with Aaron bringing up the reart.

Rachel picked up her radio again. "Calvin, we're heading back toward you. We've got them. Where are you?" She kept walking and waiting for an answer. "Calvin, answer me. Where the hell are you?" Still there was no answer. She was starting to get worried.

As they approached the intersection where she and Calvin had initially split up, Rachel noticed something large lying in the path in front of them. She motioned for the others to stop. Aaron worked his way through the group and was soon standing next to her. "What's going on?" he asked.

She motioned toward the shadow in front of them. She could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he processed what he was seeing. "What is it?" Aaron asked.

"I don't know," she said. "Keep the others here. I'm going to check it out."

"Are you sure?"

"Not really," she said as she raised her gun and started slowly walking forward. As she approached the object, she saw that it was covered in a tarp. She slowly knelt down and lifted it—and drew back in horror. "Oh, God," she gasped. Lying under the tarp was the body of Calvin Williams, mutilated almost beyond recognition.

She looked up and saw Aaron and the others approaching her. The fisherman dropped to one knee and pulled back the tarp, revealing the body underneath it. Theresa gasped and covered her mouth, Ian groaned and turned away, Madison hid her face in Jimmy's arm, and Jimmy just stared at the body as though he was numb.

"Who is it?" Ian asked, trying to look anywhere but at the body.

"Calvin Williams," Aaron said. "He's her partner."

Jimmy let go of Madison's hand and walked over to Rachel. He knelt down so that he was looking her in the eye. "It's happening again, isn't it?" Rachel looked at him and nodded.

"What?" Ian asked. "What's happening again?"

"Wakefield," Madison said in a quiet voice that sent shivers down Rachel's spine.

Aaron picked up Calvin's gun and flashlight from the ground where they had apparently fallen when Calvin was killed. He then became very interested in something underneath the body. He turned the flashlight on it.

"What is it?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know," he said. "There's something under his body, but I can't tell what it is." He turned to Jimmy. "Help me roll him over," he said.

Jimmy glanced at Rachel who nodded. He then positioned himself next to Aaron and the two of them rolled the body over. There was a slight click that echoed through the empty tunnels. Aaron brought the flashlight up and lit the area where the body had been.

"Oh my God," Theresa said. Rachel sat up to get a better look and saw a grenade. Even more horrific was the fact that the pin was laying next to it.

"RUN!" Jimmy screamed. What followed was pure chaos. Rachel saw Aaron leap toward an apparently paralyzed Madison and pull her back down the tunnel they had come. Jimmy pulled her to her feet and they ran down the branch that led back to the Candlewick. She had lost track of Ian, but she could see Theresa out of the corner of her eye.

Just then the grenade exploded, filling the tunnel with bricks, pieces of wooden beams and other flying debris.


	20. The Tunnels

After the debris settled, Aaron lifted his head. He felt around for the flashlight he had recovered from Calvin William's body and found it a few feet away from him. He flipped the switch to turn it on which it did after a minute or so, but the light was weak and wasn't likely to last very long. He shone it around and saw that Ian and Madison were both fine, save a few cuts on their arms. He also saw that the tunnel behind them was completely caved in.

He stood and stumbled over to the newly formed wall of rock and began to call out for the others. It was then that he became aware that his ears were ringing slightly, and it was several minutes before he could hear anything. Eventually, he was able to hear Rachel's voice coming from somewhere behind him. He turned the flashlight and saw a radio on the ground. Aaron could only guess that it had been kicked away from where Calvin was attacked, either during the policemen's struggle for his life or during the mad dash to get away from the grenade that had been hidden under his body. Either way, Aaron was glad that it was still working.

He picked the radio from the ground and spoke into it. "Rachel?"

"Aaron!" Rachel said, clearly relieved. "Are you okay? Who's with you?"

"I'm fine, I think," Aaron replied after giving himself a quick once over. "I'll check everything later, but I don't seem to be missing any parts. Ian and Madison are with me and they're both fine. What about you?"

"Same here. I've got Jimmy and Theresa with me, so at least we're all still alive."

"Lucky us," Aaron said dryly. There was a moment of silence before he continued. "So what now?"

"I guess we head back to the sheriff's station and figure out our next move from there."

"So what, we dig our way to you?"

"No," Rachel said with a sigh. "You three are going to have to find your own way out. Digging through this will probably just make the cave-in worse."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Aaron said as he looked back down the tunnel. "I guess we'll see you on the other side then."

"I guess so. We should probably keep the radios off. No sense in giving away our positions anymore than we have to."

"Right. Aaron out." He then switched off the radio and turned to Ian, who had picked up Calvin's pistol and the shotgun from where Aaron had dropped them, and Madison, who was watching him with an intensity that unnerved him. "I assume you two heard that," he said.

"Yeah," Ian said. Madison nodded.

"I don't suppose either of you know another way out of these tunnels?" Aaron asked. He looked at Madison when he said this, since she had been on the island before, but she shook her head no. "I didn't think so." He sighed and walked over to them. "You want the shotgun or the pistol," he asked Aaron asked Ian.

"The shotgun," Ian said, holding out the pistol.

"Fine," Aaron said as he dug into his pockets for the extra shells, which he handed over as he took the pistol. At that moment the flashlight went out. "Damn it," Aaron said as he banged the flashlight into his palm. It came back on, but the light was still weak and flickering. "Let's get moving," he said as he held the light in front of him, "before this thing dies on us for good."

The three of them walked in silence until they came to the intersection. "This way," he said pointing to the right.

"You sure?" Ian asked

"Well, you guys were down that way," Aaron said as he pointed down the left branch. "So unless there was another way out of that secret room, there's only one way to go."

"Right," Ian said. "After you." Aaron gave him an annoyed look. "What?" the hacker asked. "You're the one with the flashlight."

Aaron sighed and started down the tunnel. Madison walked behind him and Ian brought up the rear. After a few minutes of silence, he asked Ian, "So what happened? How did that guy get a hold of you?"

"He jumped me as I was leaving work-shoved a rag in my face and I was out. It's a little fuzzy after that. I vaguely remember being on a boat, but the next thing I do remember is waking up this morning—at least I think it was this morning—in that room back there. I spent the last few hours trying to get someone to hear me."

"Jimmy tried to tell him it was a waste of time," Madison said. "I'm glad he was wrong."

"So am I," Aaron muttered. Aloud he asked Madison the same question.

"He showed up at my summer camp, claiming to be my father," she said, her voice full of disgust. "The idiots running the place took him to me. He threatened to kill my mother if I screamed or resisted in any way. I didn't know him, but I had the feeling that he would do it, so I left with him. When he got me to his car he drugged me. When I woke up, I was in that room with Jimmy."

Before any more questions could be asked on the subject however, they came to another intersection, this one giving them three possible directions. "Which way do we go now?" Madison asked.

Aaron shone the flashlight down each branch, but couldn't see any indication of whether there was a dead end down any of them. He was about to pick one at random when he noticed a set of footprints leading down the branch in front of them. Upon closer inspection, he realized that they were the same prints that he, Calvin, and Rachel had followed earlier.

"What is it?" Ian asked, dropping to one knee beside him.

"These footprints. They were on the floor of the tunnel leading from the entrance in the hotel to the room where you were. It's just a hunch, but I think they might lead to a way out."

"Are you sure?" Madison asked.

"Not one-hundred percent," Aaron said standing. "But this guy obviously knows these tunnels, and this is the only of the three branches that has footprints leading down it. It obviously leads somewhere worth checking out."

Ian nodded and raised the shotgun. "Lead on, MacDuff," he said.

"Right," Aaron said as he raised the pistol and flashlight and began to walk slowly down the tunnel.

The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever. They walked for what seemed like hours, none of them daring to speak for fear that whoever had killed Calvin Williams and planted the grenade under his body was waiting somewhere down here.

Finally, Ian broke the silence. "So, assuming we manage to find a way out of these tunnels, where do we head from there?"

"The Sherriff's office," Aaron said, not taking his eyes off of the tunnel in front of him. "That's where the police have set up their impromptu command post. Your mother's waiting for you," he added with a quick sideways glance at Madison, who simply nodded.

"Great," Ian said. "I don't suppose you know how to get there?"

"One problem at a time, please," Aaron said. "First we've got to get out of the tunnels."

Before Ian could respond, Madison grabbed Aaron's sleeve. "Look," she said, pointing down the tunnels in front of them. Raising his flashlight to where she was pointing, he could just make out the shape of a door.

"What do you think is behind it?" Ian asked.

"No idea," Aaron said. It wasn't long before they were right outside it. The door was wooden with a large metal handle. In the center of the door at eye level was a small window, roughly 6 inches across. Aaron lifted the flashlight and started to lean in but Ian grabbed his arm. "Are you sure you should do that?" he asked.

"Why not?" Aaron asked.

"Haven't you ever seen a horror movie? Excessive curiosity is _never_ a good thing in these situations."

"I'm not saying we need to open it. I just want to look through the window."

Ian threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Fine," he said. "But don't blame me when you get stabbed through the head."

"Thanks for that," Aaron said sarcastically as he raised the flashlight again. He looked through the window—and promptly jumped back in horror.

"What is it?" Ian asked, his voice full of panic.

Aaron caught his breath and looked his friend in the eye. "There's a dead body in there."


	21. The Body & The Trap

"Who is it?" Ian asked, though his voice clearly indicated that he didn't want to know.

"I can't tell," Aaron said, standing upright. "I do know that it's no one who came over with me this morning. Whoever it is has been down here a long time. Two or three years, if I had to guess." Out of habit, he began to rub the medal around his neck. Then he remembered Simon James' medal and he suddenly had a sinking suspicion about who the body might be. "I need to get in there," Aaron said and he started walking to the door.

"What?" Ian asked, grabbing Aaron's shoulder. "Are you nuts? What if the guy who killed him is in there?"

"What, he's been waiting in a room with a dead body for some idiot to stumble across it and walk in?"

"Maybe," Ian said, his voice full of panic. "This guy's a psycho. You can't make sense of anything they do."

"Stop sounding so paranoid," Aaron said as he turned back to the door. "You're scaring Madison."

"_He's_ not scaring me," Madison said. "You are."

"Look, I think I may know who that body belongs—belonged—to," Aaron said. "But I need to get in there to make sure."

"I thought you said you didn't know who it was," Ian said.

"I said I couldn't tell who it was. That's why I need to get in there."

"Well, who is it then?" Madison asked skeptically.

"I don't know for sure," Aaron said, "but it could be Simon James, Theresa's father."

"I thought he was lost at sea," Ian said, his skepticism equaling Madison's.

"So did I," Aaron said. "But I found something earlier tonight that made me think otherwise." He handed Madison the flashlight and pulled the medal he had found out of his pocket.

"What is it?" Madison asked, shining the light on it.

"A Saint Andrew medal," Aaron said. "More specifically, it's Simon's Saint Andrew medal."

Ian's eyes grew wide in shock, but Madison's eyes narrowed in confusion. With a deep breath, Aaron began to explain. "Every member of the crew of _The Last Chance_, my fishing boat wears one of these medals. It's a tradition. Four years ago, Simon James, Theresa's father, and her brother Michael, were washed overboard in a storm about ten miles off the coast of Harper's Island. We never found the bodies so we assumed that they were lost at sea. But this medal being down here means that at some point, Simon was down here."

"And you think that if Simon made it this far that Michael may be somewhere on the island as well," Madison said.

"Right," Aaron said. Hearing it said out loud like that was a bit jarring, especially since he had only just come to that resolution himself. "That's why I need to get in there. I need to see if that body is Simon, Michael, or someone else."

Ian and Madison exchanged glances. Then Madison nodded. "Okay," she said. Ian rolled his eyes in frustration, then sighed and said, "So how do you want to do this?"

"The room doesn't look that big, at least from the little I could see," Aaron said. "I'll pull the door open and then go in. You cover me with the shotgun. Madison, you stay behind Ian. In the unlikely event that something happens to me, shut the door and run."

"It's your ass, not mine" Ian said as he moved into position behind Aaron. Aaron then took a deep breath and, mustering all of his strength, pulled the door open.

Raising the flashlight and pulling the pistol out of his belt, Aaron slowly made his way into the room. He quickly looked around and saw there was no one in it, except for the dead body, which was propped up against the far wall. "It's clear," he said, with a pointed look at Ian who shot him a nasty look in return. Aaron then returned the pistol to his belt and walked over to the body for a closer examination.

He didn't have to study the body long to reach a conclusion as to who it was. The clothes (what was left of them) were the clothes Simon James had been wearing when he was washed overboard: A tacky pink and black checkered shirt over a plain white t-shirt, and a pair of faded blue jeans.. "It's Simon," Aaron said to Ian and Madison, who were now crowding in the doorway.

"You're sure?" Ian asked.

"Either that, or someone who was wearing the exact same outfit when he died," Aaron said. "And I don't know anyone else who ever wore a pink and black checkered shirt."

"True," Ian muttered. "So can we go now?"

"Yeah," Aaron said as he stood. "Let's get the hell out of here." With a last look at the body of the man who had been there for him for so many years, he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

They walked in silence for several minutes before they came to a set of stairs. "Where do you think it leads?" Madison asked.

"Out of the tunnels," Aaron said, "which is good enough for me at this point. Once we're out, we can get our bearings and head for the police station."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Ian asked. "Onward and upward!"

Slowly, they began to climb the stairs, but with each step their speed increased. In less than five minutes they had reached the top where another door awaited them. This one was considerably larger than the door that they had just left, and made of metal, not wood.

"Now what?" Madison asked.

"We open it," Aaron said, as matter-of-factly as if he were discussing the weather. Upon turning, he noticed Ian's look of skepticism. "Look," the fisherman said. "If you want to go back and chill with Simon, you're more than welcome to."

"I didn't say anything," Ian said.

"No but you were thinking it," Aaron muttered as he handed Madison the flashlight. He then grabbed the large handle with one hand and held the gun up with as much confidence as he could muster. He then pulled on the door, which slid open much easier than he thought it would.

He took the flashlight back from Madison and slowly stepped through the door. He found himself standing in some sort of pipe or drain. A stream of water was running down it, flowing toward his right. Upon determining that it was clear, he motioned for the others to follow him.

"There should be some sort of exit in that direction," Aaron said, pointing in the direction the stream of water was flowing.

"After you," Ian said.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, they came to the end of the tunnel, which let out in the middle of the woods. When Aaron stepped out, he noticed that the rain had stopped and the sky had cleared and the full moon was now shining down on the forest like a giant light. He had no idea where he was, but now that they were out of the tunnels he could ask for help.

As Ian and Madison crawled out of the pipe, Aaron pulled out the radio and turned it back on. "Rachel? Bates? Anybody there?"

"Aaron?" Kevin Palmer's voice crackled over the radio. "Where are you?"

"I'm not sure. Have the others made it back to the sheriff's station yet?"

"Yeah, everyone's here but you, Ian, and Madison. Do you have any idea as to where you are?"

"We're in the woods somewhere. We came out of the tunnel by some sort of drainage pipe. Does that ring any bells for Abby or Jimmy?"

There was a moment of silence before Abby's voice came through the radio. "Is there a path nearby?" she asked.

Aaron shone the flashlight around and soon found what remained of a path through the woods. "Yeah, I see it."

"Okay," Abby said. "Follow it and it should take you to a main road. Turn left on the road and it will lead you directly past the sheriff's station. We'll leave the lights on for you."

"Great. We'll be there as soon as we can." Aaron then placed the radio back on his belt. He then motioned for the others to follow him down the path.

As soon as he turned around, Aaron heard a dull thud behind him. As he was turning around to see what had made the noise, Madison let out a scream. Aaron quickly turned the flashlight and saw what had happened: Ian was standing, stunned, holding the shotgun limply by his side in his left hand, the right slowly inching its way toward the arrow that was sticking out of his abdomen. "Aaron," he said weakly as a second arrow found its way into his chest.

"No!" Aaron cried as he dropped the flashlight and the pistol and ran toward his friend who had stumbled back and was starting to fall.

Aaron caught Ian before he could hit the ground, but it was too late. Ian was dead. Aaron let out a scream that echoed through the forest and sat there waiting for an arrow to find him. He didn't care anymore. His best and oldest friend was dead. Nothing mattered anymore.

But the arrow didn't come. Instead it was Madison that stirred him out of his trance with a gentle hand on the shoulder. He jumped, and then turned around and looked at her. She was dirty from where she had hit the ground when the arrows started flying. She seemed unnaturally calm in the face of what had happened and it was only at that instant that Aaron became aware that he had been crying.

Wiping the tears from his eyes and without speaking a word to Madison, he reached over and closed Ian's eyes for the last time. He then reached over and picked up the shotgun and removed the extra shells from Ian's pockets. He then stood and walked over to where he dropped the pistol and the flashlight. He picked up the pistol and stuck it in his belt at the small of his back. He picked up the flashlight, but quickly realized that it was broken from his dropping it. Fortunately the moon cast enough light for them to see and, after exchanging a glance with Madison, Aaron turned and started down the path, with Madison right on his heels.


	22. The Ghosts Return

Forty-five minutes later, Aaron and Madison walked through the doors of the sheriff's office. Madison immediately ran to her mother, while Aaron was greeted with a sudden hug from Theresa. He half-heartedly returned the hug before walking over and placing the shotgun and pistol on the nearest desk.

"Where's your friend?" Kevin Palmer asked from his position by the door. At first, Aaron didn't say anything and instead took a deep breath and shook his head.

"Aaron," Theresa said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "where's Ian?"

Aaron turned around and looked her in the eye. "Ian's dead," he said quietly.

A hush fell over the room as the news that one of the people they had come to rescue was dead. Eventually, people began to react. Kevin swore under his breath and punched the wall. Theresa slowly sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands. Detective Bates let out a sigh, leaned against the wall, and began to massage his forehead. The others simply began to exchange glances and sink further into a stunned silence.

After five minutes or so of this, Aaron had had enough. "I need a minute," he said, and he hurried over to the double doors that led to the holding area. Once inside he let the doors swing closed behind him and he walked to the far end of the room, turned, leaned against the wall, and slowly slid to the floor, sobbing.

He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there when he first became aware of four other people in the room with him; three men and a woman. The first man was in the cell closest to the double doors. He was somewhere around six feet tall with short brown hair and wearing an old olive green rain jacket that was at least one size too big over his dark shirt and pants. The second man was in the other cell, sitting on the cot. He was wearing dark clothes and had long black hair to match. The third man was leaning against the wall opposite the first cell. He was shorter than either of the other two men, with medium length blonde hair and wearing a dark blue sweatshirt and jeans. The woman was Trish, who was sitting next to him, which told him that the others were "ghosts" as well.

"I'm sorry about your friend," Trish said, placing a hand on his shoulder, which Aaron promptly shrugged off.

"Is he with you?" Aaron asked after a minute.

"Who?"

"Ian," he said, turning to look at Trish. "Is he one of you disembodied souls now?"

"Yes, he is," Trish said, looking away for a moment. "So are the two police officers who were killed earlier."

"Wait, only two police officers?" Aaron asked.

"Yeah," the first man, whom Aaron thought he recognized, said. "Dennis McAllister. Took an axe to the chest about two hours ago. Nice guy, bit of a talker; and Calvin Williams, stabbed multiple times, older guy, fairly philosophical about everything."

"What about Brian Williams?"

"Who?"

"The other police officer who was killed this evening," Aaron said. "He was on my fishing boat, about half-a-mile off the coast when it blew up an hour ago. He was right in the middle of the explosion, he must have been killed."

"What does he look like?" the third man asked with a British accent.

"Mid-twenties, blonde hair, a little bitchy."

"Not ringing any bells," the first man said.

"Maybe he crossed over already," the second man said as he stood. "He wasn't killed on the island like the rest of us."

"You think that makes a difference?" Trish asked.

"It might," the man said.

"Fascinating," Aaron said sarcastically.

"Well, excuse us, pretty boy," the first man said. "This is kind of a big deal for us."

"Lay off, Shane," the second man said. "He just lost his best friend." Then Aaron remembered where he recognized the first man. He had crossed paths with Shane Pierce several times while fishing over the few years prior to the second massacre.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Shane said sarcastically. "Forgive me if I don't listen to you, since it was your brother who got us all in this mess."

"J.D.'s right," the third man said. "If you're not going to be helpful—"

"I'm trying to be helpful!" Shane said. "We need this kid to get off his ass and help us stop this son-of-a-bitch. I'm trying to do that, if you guys would let me."

"Cal's right, Shane," Trish said as she stood. "We need him to do this willingly. Insulting him is not going to make him want to help us."

"How do I kill him?" Aaron asked, standing. Trish turned in surprise, Cal and J.D. exchanged glances, and a satisfied smile began to creep over Shane's face.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Trish asked. "I mean, we'll do our best to protect you, but in the end it'll just be you and him. I can't guarantee you'll walk away from this."

"It's my fault that Ian's dead," Aaron said. "The least I can do for him is to help him cross over, or whatever."

"Aaron it's not your fault," Cal said. "It's Wakefield's."

"I don't think Wakefield's behind this," Aaron said.

"Of course he is," Shane said as he rolled his eyes. "Who else could it be?"

"I don't know," Aaron said, "but I never crossed paths with Wakefield or Henry Dunn, and whoever's killing people this time has called me. Multiple times. And not only that, he's mocking me. Whoever it is is after me. Not Abby. Not any of the other survivors. Me. So tell me why Wakefield would be more interested in me than Abby and I might buy it's him."

The four "ghosts" exchanged surprised glances. After a minute, J.D. broke the silence. "Are you sure it's the killer and not some prankster?"

Aaron shook his head. "Whoever it is is using Theresa's phone to call me, and the calls started _after_ she was kidnapped."

"Maybe Wakefield's got a new lackey," Shane suggested with a shrug.

"It doesn't matter," Trish said. "Wakefield still needs to be stopped, and Aaron is the only one who can stop him."

"Please don't say it like that," Aaron muttered. "It makes me sound like Frodo from _Lord of the Rings_."

"Well it's nothing quite that epic," Shane said. "As best as we can figure, all you have to do is kill him."

Aaron looked up in surprise. "Really?"

Cal shrugged. "We know that Wakefield used some sort of dark magic to take over another body, but the spell seems to be one way. Basically, there's no ritual required to break it. Kill the new body, and Wakefield's soul should leave it."

"How the hell do you know all this?" Aaron asked in a mix of awe and confusion.

"Sully and Danny found a book of spells in one of Wakefield's secret rooms. It was opened to a page with a ritual for cheating death by putting your soul in someone else's body. It's perverse, but it's possible."

"And there's no counter ritual?" Aaron asked.

"Not as far as we can tell. It had to be a living person that the soul transferred to, and it could only happen immediately after death. There was no indication of any sort of binding aspect to it."

"Again I ask, how the hell do you know all this?"

"He's British," Shane said as he shook his head at Cal. "They know all about that wizard stuff."

Cal shot Shane a dirty look before continuing. "All you have to do is kill him and the soul should leave the body."

"Well what's to stop him from using the ritual on me?"

"This ritual is a big-time sin," J.D. said. "Hell's got to be on high alert for Wakefield. Once he's out, the demons should be all over his ass. They drag him to hell, we cross over, you and your friends go home, and everyone lives happily ever after."

"I can't say I'm comfortable trying to kill a psychopath based on 'should.'"

"I don't blame you," Shane said. "But there aren't exactly any other options here."

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it," Aaron said. "I just want to be clear that I'm not thrilled about the amount of faith I have to put in your intel, which seems shoddy at best."

"Fair enough," Trish said. "You should probably go back to your friends now. We're going to leave now, but we'll be back. At least, I will."

"Yeah, about that," Aaron said. "Why are you the one who gets to appear everytime?"

Trish smiled. "Maybe next time I'll answer that. For now, we have to go."

"Right," Aaron said with a sigh. "I'll see you later, then." He then turned and made his way back into the main room of the police station.


	23. The Memory & The Plan

When Aaron walked back into the main room he was met with some stares, but most of the people averted their eyes.

Madison broke the silence. "I told them about what happened to Ian," she said. "I figured the rest had better come from you."

"Rest?" Theresa asked, looking to Aaron. Her eyes were red from crying. "What else is there?"

Aaron sighed and walked over to her. "While we were still in the tunnels, we found a dead body. He had been down there for a while, but I'm pretty sure I know who it was." He reached into his pocket and pulled out Simon James' Saint Andrew medal. "It was your father," he said as he handed her the medal.

"No," she declared. "My father died at sea four years ago. We had the service, Aaron. You were there."

"We never found his body," Aaron said. "He was washed overboard off this island. Who's to say that he didn't wash up on the beach and was found by John Wakefield?"

"NO!" Theresa shouted throwing the medal across the room. "It can't be him! It just can't!" Then she began to sob. Aaron pulled her close and let her cry on his shoulder, ignoring the stares from the others.

After ten minutes, Theresa calmed down enough to allow Aaron to feel comfortable speaking. "Theresa, I know that you don't want to hear this, but the body we found _was_ your father. It was wearing that obnoxious pink and black plaid shirt he always wore. I don't know anyone else who wore those things."

Theresa pulled away and nodded. "I know," she said. "It's just…first Ian and now this…I don't know how much more bad news I can take."

Aaron offered a reassuring smile. "I hear you."

"Well, at least now we can all get on _The Last Chance_, and get out of here."

Aaron's smile faded. "About that…" he began, telling her the story about how he lost the boat. "I'm so sorry," he said when he had finished. "I know how much that boat meant to you."

Theresa punched him in the shoulder. "You idiot," she said. "I don't give a damn about the boat. I'm just glad you're okay."

Someone (Aaron was pretty sure it was Kevin Palmer) stifled a laugh as he rubbed his shoulder. "How are we going to get out of here anyway?" Theresa asked.

"That's where we run into a problem," Detective Bates said. "We're under radio silence, which means that no one's going to be calling in for an update. We'll have to call out."

"So call out," Jimmy said. "Let's get off this rock."

"We can't from here," Rachel said. "We didn't bring a radio that will broadcast that far. We were hoping to use the radio on the boat, but that didn't work out." She indicated the destroyed radio on the counter. "And as you can see, that one's beyond repair."

"So we need to assess our options," April said from the corner where she was standing. She turned to Abby and Jimmy. "Can you think of any radios on this Island that we might use to call for help?"

"There's the one in the shack we used last time," Abby said. "But if this guy's as well versed on the case as you think, he's probably destroyed it."

"There might still be one in the lighthouse," Jimmy added. "But I can't guarantee that it works."

"That's a good start," April said. "Anywhere else?"

"The only other place I can think of would be down by the docks," Jimmy said. Abby nodded her agreement.

The four detectives than went into a huddle in the far corner of the room and began muttering to each other about the new information. The civilians exchanged glances before Jimmy broke the silence. "Sorry about your friend," he said to Aaron and Theresa.

"Thanks," Aaron said. Theresa just nodded.

Jimmy paused for a moment before continuing. "The whole time he was in that room, he kept insisting that you'd come for him. I thought he was crazy, but he told me about the time you were in Los Angeles, and how you said you'd always have his back."

Aaron nodded to indicate that he remembered the incident. Not that being reminded of that particular promise helped his mood just then.

He felt several pairs of eyes on him and looked up to see Shea and Abby staring at him with curious looks on their faces. It was clear that they wanted to hear the story, but were being too polite to ask. Aaron decided that they should hear it.

"When Ian and I were about ten," he began, "Marina, Ian's adopted mother, took us to Los Angeles on vacation. We were on the beach one day and Ian and I decided to take a walk. About a mile or so down the beach, we came across a bunch of surfboards, stuck in the sand like dominos. We'd never seen surfboards before, so we walked over to get a better look at them. Ian got a little too excited and bumped one of them, causing all of them to fall over."

He took a deep breath and continued. "The last board had just hit the beach when we heard shouting. We turned and saw five or six big surfers running toward us, mad as hell and cursing at the top of their lungs. Naturally, Ian and I began running back down the beach, but since they were older, they quickly caught up to us.

"They grabbed us and walked us to another surfer. Their leader, I guess. He looked from Ian to me and asked which one of us had knocked the boards over. I looked over at Ian, saw that he was terrified, and, without hesitation, I said that I did it.

"I tried to explain that it was an accident, but they wouldn't hear any of it. One of them grabbed Ian's arms and held him steady while the others took turns wailing on me. After it was over, we began to walk back to where Marina was. On the way, Ian turned to me. 'You didn't have to do that,' he said. 'Sure I did,' I said. 'It's what brothers do.' Naturally Ian protested. 'We're not brothers,' he said. 'Sure we are,' I said. 'And I'll always have your back, no matter what.' That's it, really. We got back, made up a story about what happened and never anyone told the truth, before now anyway."

The silence that followed his story was almost overwhelming. Abby broke it by walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay," she said. "We all make promises we can't keep."

Aaron, realizing that he had been crying, wiped the tears from his eyes. "All I know is I want this bastard's head. He's killed two people who are very important to me, and I'm not going to let him get anyone else."

"Don't be so quick to give in to the hate," Jimmy said. "It took me two and a half years to realize that I was wasting my life hating Wakefield and Henry for what they did."

Before Aaron could respond the detectives broke their huddle and walked over to the others. "Well, we have a plan," Detective Bates said. "I won't say it's a good one, or even a smart one, but it's the only one we've got."

"What is it?" Shea asked, the hesitation very clear in her voice.

"We divide into two groups," Kevin Palmer said. "One group, led by Detective Martinelli and myself, will head for that shack. The other, led by Detectives Evans and Bates, will head for the docks. Hopefully one group can get to a working radio and call for help. Either way, both groups will then make their way to the lighthouse. We'll meet up there and decide what our next move will be."

"Are you sure splitting up is a good idea?" Abby asked, grabbing Jimmy's hand.

"No," April said bluntly. "But if we stay together we know this bastard will be following us. He can't be in two places at once, so one group should be fine."

"I don't like it," Aaron said. "This son-of-a-bitch has been three steps ahead of us since yesterday. He's already killed three detectives and one civilian, and that's just since we've been here. If we're going to split up, I'm going to need more than 'should be.'" Out of the corner of his eye he saw Abby and Shea nod in agreement.

"I said it wasn't a good plan," Detective Bates said with a sigh. "And I'll be honest, it goes against every instinct I have as a police officer. But it's our best shot at getting off this rock without losing anyone else."

In the silence that followed, Aaron had to admit that Bates was probably right. Splitting up was probably the best option on a short list of bad options, and there was no way around it. Plus he had a sneaking suspicion about which group the killer would follow. He just wasn't sure whether or not he should say so.

"What we were thinking is this," Rachel said, breaking Aaron's concentration. "Since there are six of you, we'd put three in each group. Abby, Jimmy, since you know your way around the island better than any of the rest of us, I'm afraid one of you will be in each group." She held up her hand to stem the flood of protest. "I'm sorry. I wish there was another way, but there isn't."

Abby and Jimmy looked at each other. Aaron could see in Jimmy's eyes that he was willing to concede to this plan, even if Abby wasn't. Abby apparently saw it too. "No," she said. "I just got you back. I'm not going to let you out of my sight as long as we're on this island."

"It's the only way," Jimmy said. "No one else knows the island like we do."

"But what if he kills you?" Abby asked, her voice breaking. "You're all that I have left, I _can't _live without you."

Jimmy smiled and pulled Abby into a warm embrace. "He had a month to kill me but didn't," Jimmy said. "I don't think he's after us this time." Aaron averted his eyes.

After another five minutes, Abby nodded. "Fine," she said, turning to April and Bates. "I'll lead you to the docks." She then turned to Kevin and Rachel. "If anything happens to him," she said, "I will hold you two personally responsible."

Rachel nodded. Then she addressed Aaron, Theresa, Shea and Madison. "Where you go is up to you."

"We'll go to the docks," Shea said, holding Madison tightly.

"I guess we're going to the shack," Theresa said. Aaron nodded and picked the shotgun up off of the desk. He tossed it to Abby, along with the extra shells from his pockets. "Just in case," he said as he picked up the pistol. Abby nodded and checked to make sure it was loaded.

"Great," Kevin said. He and the other detectives quickly gathered up the two extra radios and distributed them, one to Abby, one to Jimmy. "Don't use these unless you have to," he said. "We don't want to give away our position."

For most of them, the parting consisted of nods and muttering "good luck." For Abby and Jimmy, it was more than that. They held each other for what seemed like hours, kissed each other at least a dozen times, and promised each other that they'd be careful so many times that Aaron was pretty sure they had broken a record.

At last, they separated and the two groups walked out of the police station and walked in their separate directions.


	24. The Forest

Theresa was scared. No, she was beyond scared. She remembered a scene from some Muppet movie she'd seen as a kid where the rat described himself as being "somewhere between bed-wetting and a near death experience." At the time, she thought it was a joke. Now she knew what it really felt like and it was far from funny.

As she walked through the woods, every little sound made her jump and look around to see if someone was following them. If she didn't get off this island soon, she would probably go insane.

"Are you going to be ok?" Aaron asked, stirring her from her thoughts.

She flashed what she hoped was a casual smile and said, "Sure." One look at his face told her he wasn't buying it. She sighed and looked straight ahead as she continued walking. "No, I'm not," she said. "I don't know if I'll ever be ok. But I'll live."

Aaron nodded and took her hand. "I promise I'll get you off this rock in one piece," he said, looking her in the eye.

Theresa met his gaze and smiled, meaning it this time. "I know," she said.

"Quiet back there," Kevin Palmer said from ahead of them. "We don't need to make it easy for this bastard to pick us off."

Aaron nodded and started walking toward the others, letting his hand slip from Theresa's. It was then that Theresa realized that she didn't want him to let go. More than that, she never wanted to be apart from him again.

It wasn't that she was in love with Aaron. It was just that he had always been there for her. When her father and brother were lost at sea, it was Aaron who had been there to comfort them. When her mother had been diagnosed with cancer, Aaron was the first person she had called. He was her anchor. She hadn't really thought about it, but when she woke up in that dark cell in the tunnels with Ian and the others, she had known that Aaron was going to come for them. Somehow she had known that he wouldn't just wait for the police to find her, that he would make sure to come along. He was the only one she trusted to get her home safely.

Not wanting him to get too far away, Theresa quickly caught up with Aaron, making sure to stay close to him. "How much further?" she asked Jimmy.

"Not much further," Jimmy said. "I think."

"You think?" Kevin asked, slightly incredulous

"It's been a couple of years since I've been there," Jimmy said with a shrug. "And that was in the daytime," he added with a pointed look at the policeman.

"I voted to wait," Rachel said. "But I was shot down." She also shot Kevin a pointed look.

Kevin rolled his eyes. "Let's just get there," he said.

Theresa smiled a little in spite of herself, and couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, she was going to be able to keep her sanity.

As they continued to walk, Kevin Palmer dropped back and began walking along side Aaron. "Can I talk to you alone for a minute?" he asked the fisherman.

Aaron looked at Theresa. "Are you going okay with that?" he asked.

Theresa nodded. "I'll go talk to Rachel for a little while," she said. Then she walked away, making sure to stay within earshot.

"What's up?" Aaron asked.

"In the excitement of the last few hours it slipped my mind," the policeman began, "but when Dennis and I were searching Abby's house, we found several articles about Simon and Michael James. Specifically about the night they were lost at sea. Do you have any idea why this guy might be interested in that night?"

Theresa fought the urge to turn around. _Why is this guy interested in my family?_ She thought as she continued to walk.

Before Aaron could answer, however, Jimmy stopped at the edge of a cliff. "We're here," he said turning to the others.

"You're joking, right?" Rachel said.

"Nope," Jimmy said. "The shack's at the bottom of this ledge."

"And how are we supposed to climb down in the dark?" Kevin asked, his voice cracking with frustration.

Jimmy shrugged. "I thought that was your department," he said.

Kevin began to swear under his breath. Aaron stepped forward and shone his flashlight down the ledge. "It's not that far down," the fisherman said. "Twenty-five, thirty feet, maybe. Looks like there's a path here as well."

"What are you saying?" Theresa asked, though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

"We could climb down," Aaron said looking back at the others. "The path's a bit narrow, but if we go down one at a time, we should be fine."

They exchanged glances before Rachel nodded. "I'll go first," she said, holstering her pistol. Jimmy went next, followed by Theresa, Aaron, and Kevin. Ten minutes later they had reached the bottom and had begun to make their way toward the shed. When they reached it, Rachel pulled the door open and stepped inside. After a minute she swore out loud and said, "It's all clear. Come on in."

As soon as Theresa entered the cabin, she saw what had caused Rachel to swear. The radio was smashed so far beyond repair, she doubted MacGyver could have fixed it. The pile of junk in the police station was in better shape than this. Their first and best hope for getting off the island was destroyed.

After a minute of staring, Kevin said, "Alright everyone, let's go," and one by one they slowly walked out of the shack and back up the cliff. When they reached the top, they stopped for a minute to catch their breath before continuing toward the lighthouse.

They had been walking for about thirty minutes when Jimmy motioned for everyone to stop. He looked around and appeared to be listening for something, but before Theresa could figure out what, all hell broke loose.

The figure, wearing a long black trench coat and a cap pulled low over his eyes, jumped out of the woods and into the group. Kevin raised his pistol but was immediately sent sprawling.

"RUN!" Rachel shouted toward the civilians as she raised her pistol. Theresa didn't hesitate in following the order, vaguely aware of Aaron and Jimmy doing the same thing. She didn't even stop when she heard gunshots coming from behind them.

She wasn't sure how long she had been running before she ran out of breath and had to stop. Aaron and Jimmy did the same thing.

"What now?" Theresa asked when she caught her breath.

"We keep going to the lighthouse," Jimmy said. "We meet up with the others and plan our next move from there."

"What if Rachel and Kevin need help?" Aaron asked.

Jimmy shook his head. "They would want us to get to the others. We're sitting ducks out here. They're trained to handle these kinds of scenarios. They'll be fine."

At that moment something moved in the woods behind them. Theresa froze while Aaron raised his pistol. "Rachel," he called.

The figure in black came running at them so fast that Theresa almost didn't see him. Aaron fired two shots at him, neither of which slowed him down. When the figure reached Aaron he knocked the gun away and grabbed Aaron by the throat, lifting him off the ground.

Theresa screamed. Jimmy turned toward her. "Get out of here!" he yelled. "Find the road and head north. It'll take you right to the lighthouse." He turned and ran toward the figure. Theresa tried to run but found herself unable to turn away.

Jimmy hit the figure at full force and knocked him to the ground. Aaron hit the ground as the man lost his grip. He coughed and gasped trying to catch his breath. Theresa ran to his side. When she looked up she saw that the figure had picked Jimmy up by the collar and was walking towards the trees. It took Theresa a second to realize why. A broken branch was sticking out of a tree laying on the ground. Before Theresa could react, the figure shoved Jimmy onto it, impaling him.

"NO!" Aaron shouted, his voice hoarse. The figure turned and began to walk toward him. Suddenly a series of shots rang out. Theresa turned and saw Rachel and Kevin in the woods a few feet away.

The figure stumbled as a shot ripped through his leg and another went through his shoulder. He turned toward Rachel and Kevin as though weighing the odds. Then, with a last lingering look at Aaron, he turned and ran into the woods.

Aaron slowly got to his feet as Kevin and Rachel gave chase. He stumbled over to Jimmy who was still gasping for breath on the branch. Theresa followed him.

Jimmy was not in good shape. The branch was sticking a good two inches out of his chest. He was coughing up blood and it was clear that he was not going to last much longer. Aaron saw it too. "Damn," he said as they approached Jimmy.

Jimmy shook his head. "I've been in worse scrapes than this," he said with a slight grin. "Can't think of any right now, but…" Theresa couldn't help but smile a little at that.

"I'm sorry," Aaron said as he and Theresa knelt beside him.

"For what?" Jimmy asked with a shrug. "I always knew I'd die on this Godforsaken island. I just figured it'd be from old age."

"I'm sorry that Abby isn't here," Theresa said.

"Me too," Jimmy said. He turned to Aaron. "Take care of her," he said. "Make sure she gets off this rock in one piece. Promise me."

"You got it," Aaron said.

Jimmy coughed up some more blood and placed his hand on Aaron's shoulder. "Do you remember what I said earlier? About not giving in to the hate?"

Aaron nodded. "I'll do my best," he said.

Jimmy shook his head. "Forget it," he said. "You harness that hate and send that bastard to hell for me."

Theresa looked up at Aaron, not sure what he would say. After a minute he nodded. "You got it," he said.

Jimmy nodded and closed his eyes with a sigh, his hand falling limply to his side. Theresa slowly sat down and leaned against the fallen tree. She suddenly became aware of Kevin and Rachel standing over them. They looked a little battered, but otherwise none the worse for wear. "Where is he?" she asked.

"Even with a bullet in his leg he's too fast for us," Kevin said. "I'd be impressed if it didn't make him that much more dangerous."

Rachel walked over to Aaron, who had also sat down against the tree, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We need to get going," she said. "We're going to have to find our way to the lighthouse on our own."

Aaron looked up at her and nodded. He stood and offered his hand to Theresa, helping her up. Then, with a last look at Jimmy, they turned and walked away.


	25. The Motive

Following the directions that Jimmy had given Theresa, Aaron and the others made it to the lighthouse without much trouble. It started raining again as they walked up the road, which only made the depression Aaron felt that much worse.

"Who's going to tell Abby?" Aaron asked as they reached the door to the house portion of the lighthouse.

The others froze for a minute. Finally Kevin said, "I will." Then he pulled the door open and they slowly filed in.

"It's about time," Bates said as they entered the main living room of the house, which also doubled as the kitchen. "We were beginning to get worried."

Aaron, who was the second one through the door, saw Kevin nod in acknowledgement. Abby walked in from one of the side rooms followed by Shea and Madison. April was sitting at the table in the kitchen area and Bates was standing in the middle of the room, where Aaron suspected he had been pacing.

"Where's Jimmy?" Abby asked as Rachel closed the door behind her. Aaron glanced at Kevin who suddenly seemed frozen in place. Taking a deep breath, Aaron stepped forward. "I'm sorry, Abby," he said. "Jimmy didn't make it."

At first Abby didn't move. Then she began to look at the group, no doubt waiting for someone to say "gotcha!" and open the door to show Jimmy standing outside. When no one moved, the realization began to dawn on her. "No," she said, slowly backing away. "No!"

"I'm sorry," Aaron said again.

Abby backed all the way to the wall and began sobbing. Shea hurried over and held her while the others mulled around the room, unsure of what to do.

Five minutes later, Abby suddenly screamed and lunged across the room at Kevin and Rachel. "YOU KILLED HIM!" she screamed. "YOU PROMISED TO KEEP HIM SAFE!"

Aaron grabbed Abby and fought to restrain her. "Abby, don't," he said.

"Let me go!" Abby said, struggling against him.

"Not until you listen to me!" Aaron said. Abby reluctantly stopped struggling and looked the fisherman in the eye. "It's not their fault," he said. "It's mine."

A silence so thick you'd need a chainsaw to cut through it settled over the room. "What do you mean?" Abby asked, wiping tears from her eyes.

Aaron took a deep breath and didn't break eye contact with Abby, despite the fact that every other eye in the room was on him. "Whoever is behind this," he said, "is after me."

"How long have you known?" Abby asked.

"I've only known for about an hour," Aaron said. "But I've had a sneaking suspicion since last night when he called me."

"How can you be sure?" Shea asked.

"Because he left Kevin and Rachel alive to come after me not thirty minutes ago," Aaron said, still looking at Abby. "And he probably would have left Jimmy alone if he hadn't interfered with this guy's attempt at strangling me."

"Are you saying it's Jimmy's own fault he's dead?" Abby asked, her voice breaking slightly

"No," Aaron said, holding up his hands. "It's just that if he had left me, he'd be here talking to you about this, not me." Abby gave him a look that was a mix of disgust and apology before walking off to sit in a chair in the living room. Madison walked over to her and sat next to her, taking Abby's hand.

"So how do you explain the other deaths?" Kevin asked, bringing everyone's attention back to Aaron's theory. "If this is about you, how do you explain Dennis, Calvin, Brian and Ian's deaths?"

"Well, Brian was killed when the radio on the boat exploded, crippling our communications," Aaron said, looking at the policeman. "He was probably in the wrong place at the wrong time. Calvin was searching the tunnels alone. My guess is he stumbled on the guy and was killed to keep him from identifying him. You said Dennis was killed after you found those newspaper clips about Michael and Simon's disappearances. The killer was probably hoping to keep that a secret, which was why he killed Dennis."

"What about Ian?" Theresa asked.

"If he's after me he would know that Ian's death would hit me hard," Aaron said with a shrug.

"Why kidnap Jimmy and Madison, then?" Shea asked.

"To throw us off," Aaron said. "If it had been about you, why kidnap Ian and Theresa?"

"To get you here," Bates said. "You've got to admit it makes sense."

"That's great," Kevin said. "We know this guy's motive. Doesn't get us any closer to catching this bastard or getting off this rock, but we know why that son-of-a-bitch has killed three cops and two civilians tonight."

"I take it that the radio in the shack is no longer an option," April said.

"Smashed beyond repair," Rachel said. "Did you find anything?"

"Not a thing," Shea said. "Any radios that may have been at the docks are gone now."

"What about here?" Theresa said.

"Nothing so far," Madison said. "We've only looked in the house. We hadn't got to the tower yet."

"Then let's go," Kevin said.

At that moment someone's phone began to ring. Everyone began checking their phones, but it was Abby who flipped hers open. "Hello?" she said. After a second she pulled the phone away from her ear, put it on speaker, and placed it on the table. "You're on speaker," she said. "Now what do you want?"

"Just to talk," the Apostle said. "Hello, everyone."

"Who are you?" Bates asked.

"Detective Bates, how are you?"

"I've been better," Bates said shortly. "Now who are you?"

"Aaron's been calling me the Apostle, so let's go with that."

"You've killed three policemen and two civilians tonight," Kevin said.

"I had my reasons for each and every one of them. But the one I want is still alive. I trust you've figured that out by now."

The others all glanced at Aaron. "What do you want?" Rachel asked.

"I want Aaron Thomas," the Apostle said simply. "Have him at The Cannery in one hour and I let the rest of you leave this island alive and unharmed. If he's not, I will kill you all one by one." With that the phone went dead.

The group stood in silence for a minute before Aaron turned to Abby. "How do I get to The Cannery from here?" he asked.

"What?" Theresa said. "Are you seriously going to give yourself up to him?"

"If it gets the rest of you off this island, then yes I am."

"We don't know this bastard will keep his word," Bates said. "Once he has you he can still come after us."

"Then I can buy you a little time to find a way off the island," Aaron said. "Then, if you want, you can pull together an army and come back for me."

"You're not doing this," Bates said. "I won't let you."

Aaron stopped. "You won't_ let_ me?" he said. "Sorry, but it's not exactly your call. It's my life. I'll decide what to do with it."

"No you won't," Bates insisted. "I won't allow it."

"Bates," Kevin said, placing a hand on the detective's shoulder. "Maybe we should consider letting him go with some back-up."

"Let's do that," Aaron said. "I go in and you guys watch my back."

"No," Bates said. "I'm not going to let you do this, Aaron."

"Why not?" Aaron asked. "Why won't you let me do this, Bates? It's the only chance we've had to catch this bastard so far, why won't you let us take it?"

Bates sighed, then looked Aaron in the eye. "Because I'm your father, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you use yourself as bait."


	26. The Decision of Aaron Thomas

A silence fell over the room, a silence that was somehow heavier than the one that had followed the news of Jimmy's death. Everyone exchanged glances except for Aaron and Detective Bates, who stood staring at each other.

"You're my what?" Aaron asked, breaking the silence.

"Your father," Detective Bates repeated, as though he was telling someone the time.

"That's not funny, Bates," Aaron said turning away.

"Do you see me laughing?" Bates said. "I'm your biological father, Aaron. This isn't exactly how I wanted you to find out, but…"

Aaron's head was swimming. He had known Detective Bates long enough to know that he was telling the truth. But the fact that his mentor was his father… "How long have you known?" he asked.

"I found out right after you were arrested," Bates said after a minute.

"Ten years," Aaron said with a nod. Then, moving so fast that no one was able to stop him, he delivered a right cross to Bates' jaw, knocking the man back.

"You son-of-a bitch!" Aaron screamed. "You've known for ten years and you are just now telling me this? Why didn't you tell me when Andrea died? Or when Katelyn walked out? Why did you let me go on thinking that my birth parents didn't care?"

"It's complicated…" Bates began.

"Don't give me that bull shit," Aaron said. "You tell me everything. Now."

Bates sighed and nodded. "It began almost thirty years ago, back when I was working the streets," he said. "I met a…girl on the job. The affair lasted a few months before she suddenly broke it off." He paused a moment before continuing. "Fast forward eighteen years, and I'm working vice and you get arrested in a drug raid. I knew as soon as I saw you. You look like your mother. I ran a DNA test to confirm it."

Aaron had calmed down a little and was listening intently. "What happened to my mother?" he asked.

Bates paused again, as though dealing with a painful memory. "She was beaten to death by a particularly violent john about two years after you were born. I was one of the first officers on the scene. It was part of the reason I joined vice."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" Aaron asked after a moment.

"I don't know. I guess I was afraid of what you would do if you found out, that I might lose you forever. In hindsight, not telling you was a mistake. But I'm telling you now, and I need you to listen to me."

Aaron shook his head. "I've heard enough," he said. "I need a minute." Then he turned and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. After a few minutes of punching walls in frustration, he sat down on the bed and stared at the wall trying to come to terms with what he had just been told. As he stared, he became vaguely aware of the figures that had appeared in the room.

"I like what you've done with the place," Shane Pierce said, no doubt in an attempt to break the ice. Aaron was not amused.

Apparently neither was Trish, who hit the fisherman on the arm. "Shut up, Shane," she said. "He's been through a lot."

"And we haven't?" Shane asked.

"I don't suppose you could forget about yourself for one minute," a new voice said. Aaron turned around and saw an older man, tall with graying hair, crossing his arms and staring at Shane with a look a disdain on his face. He turned to Aaron. "I know that the news that that man is your father is shocking," he said. "And you have every right to be angry with him. But he does care about you. He's only doing his best, and he's trying to be the man you want him to be."

"Not now, Dad," Trish said, cautiously. Thomas Wellington sighed and nodded.

"So what do you want now?" Aaron asked after a moment of awkward silence.

"You're thinking about turning yourself over to this guy, aren't you?" Shane said. Aaron didn't say anything, which seemed to be all the answer Shane needed. The ghost scoffed. "I never figured you for the noble type," he said.

"No one asked you," Aaron said as he stood. "This is the only way the rest of them are going to get off this island in one piece. I've got to do it, for them if for no other reason."

"We know that," Trish said, shooting Shane a nasty look. "And we're here to help."

"How?" Aaron asked. "You're dead. What are you going to do, talk me through the process of dying?"

"No," Trish said, dismissing the fisherman's wise crack with a smile. "We're going to make damn sure this plays out the way you hope it will."

This got Aaron's attention. "What did you have in mind?" he asked.

"I'll walk you through your meeting with Wakefield, or whoever it is, and a few of the rest of us will keep your friends safe."

"How?"

"The technicals are a bit hard to explain," Thomas Wellington said, "But basically, while they can't see us, we can communicate with them, in our own way. If there's any sign of danger, we'll give them a heads up, and make sure they get safely away."

Aaron nodded. "Make sure you do," he said. "No one else needs to die from this."

"That includes you," Shane said. "Right now you're our only hope of crossing over."

Aaron nodded and turned to Trish. "No offense, but I'd feel a lot better if it was more than just you coming with me," he said.

Trish offered him a reassuring smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I won't be the only one there, just the only one you can see."

Before Aaron could respond, the door to the bedroom opened and Madison Allen stepped into the room. She closed the door behind her and turned around. "What are you doing here?" she said.

"Just thinking," Aaron said.

"Not you," Madison said. "Her." She pointed at Trish

Aaron turned and saw that Shane and Thomas Wellington had disappeared, leaving him and Trish alone in the room with the girl. He raised an eyebrow at Trish and waited for an explanation.

"When she was down in the tunnels, I showed up every now and then to keep her sane," Trish said with a shrug.

"You can see Aunt Trish, too?" Madison asked.

"Yeah," Aaron said. "She's been a big help to me tonight, though I thought I was the only one who could see her."

"Don't flatter yourself," Trish said with a grin.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Aaron said. "It doesn't change anything."

"You're thinking about going to the Cannery, aren't you?" Madison asked Aaron

"Not thinking," Aaron said. "I'm going. I promised your mother I'd get you off this island and away from this guy, and this is the only way to do it."

Madison nodded. Then she turned to Trish. "Take care of him," she said. "I kind of like him."

"I will," Trish said with a grin. "You go back to your mom now, okay?"

Madison nodded and walked out of the room. "Cute kid," Aaron said as she pulled the door closed behind her. "She reminds me of my sister."

"How so?" Trish said.

"I'll tell you later," Aaron said. "Now, I've got to explain to them what I'm up to. Meet me outside, okay?"

"Okay," Trish said. With a final smile, she disappeared.

Aaron took a deep breath and stepped out into the main room. The others turned, but didn't say anything. He sighed and walked over to them. "I'm going to the Cannery," he said. "And I don't want any of you following me. Stay here and you should be safe."

Detective Bates stood and started to speak, but Aaron cut him off. "You gave up the right to tell me what to do fifteen minutes ago," he said. The detective closed his mouth with a humble nod and sat down. To the other policemen, he said. "I know this goes against every instinct you have, but this guy is not going to stop until he finds me. This way, I can keep him away from the rest of you. Please respect me on this." None of them said anything.

Theresa walked over to him. "Don't go," she pleaded. "We'll find a way out of this."

"Sure you will," he said turning to her. "And I can buy you the time you need to do it. Trust me."

"You're practically the only family I have left," Theresa said. "Please don't do this."

Aaron smiled. "I'll be back, I promise. And we'll go right back to starving up a living on a new fishing boat, you'll see." Theresa had nothing else to say, so she turned and walked over to the corner of the room.

Aaron stood for another minute before picking up a pistol and walking out of the lighthouse.


	27. The Secret of Trish Wellington

Trish was waiting for Aaron a few yards into the woods, just out of sight of the lighthouse. He gave her a nod to indicate that he saw her and then continued walking without saying anything. Trish turned and began to quietly walk beside him. At least Aaron figured she was walking. He could see her legs move like she was walking, but she didn't make any sound or disturb anything in the woods.

After several minutes of walking in silence, Trish spoke. "So Madison reminds you of your sister?" she asked cautiously, as though she was afraid she may be crossing a line.

Aaron smiled a little at that before answering. "Yeah, she really does. She speaks her mind, no matter who is listening, and she is completely unshakeable. Even in the face of all this insanity, and for the second time, she's probably the calmest person in that lighthouse. Not that that says much."

Trish nodded. "She takes after dad. I don't think I ever saw him lose his cool in public." They again lapsed into an uneasy silence, and again it was Trish who broke it. "So what does Katelyn do for a living?" she asked.

"I don't know," Aaron said. "I haven't seen or spoken to her in close to ten years. We had a sort of falling out."

"Care to elaborate?" Trish asked when he didn't say anything else.

"It started about three years before that," Aaron said after a moment's pause. "Katelyn started dating this guy named Chris Young. He was a real asshole to everyone but her, but you couldn't convince her because she was so smitten and he only showed his darker side when she wasn't around. He was particularly bad to Andrea. I won't go into details, but he never had a nice thing to say in front of her."

"Who's Andrea?"

"Katelyn's mom. I was adopted," he added when he saw the look of confusion on Trish's face. "Anyway, when Andrea died I made a point of saying that I didn't want Chris to come to the funeral. Katelyn agreed, but that morning, they both showed up at the cemetery, arm in arm.

"I told him he had to leave, that he was welcome to come to the reception, but he wasn't taking one step closer to her grave. Chris just smirked and pushed his way past me. And at that moment, all the anger and hate I'd kept buried inside me for the last three years came rushing to the surface. I grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, and punched him.

"That was when Katelyn lost it. After helping Chris up, she turned to me and said, 'What right do you have to decide who can come to this service? You're not even her son!' Then she turned and led Chris away. That was the last time I saw them. When I went by her place later to apologize, she and Chris were gone. I tried calling her, but she never answered her phone, and about a year after she left, it was disconnected. I don't know where she is, or how to find her. I guess I've more or less resigned myself to the fact that I'll never see her again."

"If I may offer some advice," Trish said, "don't give up. You have no idea what it's like to truly regret not saying something. If I had just five minutes with Shea, it would be more than enough. In fact, I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"Promise me that if you make it out of this—and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that you do—promise me that you will find Katelyn and tell her what you need to tell her."

Aaron stopped walking and turned to face her. "Why do you care?" he asked. "Why am I so damn important to you? And don't give me some bullshit about helping you cross over. This is more than that."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Trish said as she continued walking.

"The hell you don't," Aaron called after her. "Why are you the one I keep seeing over and over again? First in my dreams, and now here on the island."

"Are we going to the Cannery or not?" Trish asked.

"Not until I get some answers," Aaron said defiantly.

Trish stopped and sighed. "Alright," she said as she turned to face him. "If you really want to know, I'll tell you. But I want you to really think about this, because it's going to change things."

Aaron was a little taken aback at this. "And if I agree to drop it?"

"Then I'll tell you before I cross over," Trish said. "And that is a promise."

Aaron thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I want to know now," he said.

"Ok," Trish said as she walked back to him. "The reason that I am the one who is always showing up to help you through this is that…you and I are soul mates."

Aaron rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "If you're not going to be serious, forget it. I don't need to know that badly." He started to walk past her, but she put her hand on his chest, stopping him.

"I am serious." Trish said, looking Aaron in the eye. "You and I are destined to be together. Or at least we were before Henry Dunn swept me off my feet by stabbing me through the heart."

"How can we be soul mates?" Aaron asked. "We're not even in the same social circle. Our paths have never crossed before now."

"That's true," Trish said. "But you started having the dreams a year ago, right?"

"Yeah, last summer. Why?"

"That was when we would have met, if I hadn't died. The dreams were the universe's way of attempting to correct what Henry ruined. And that's why you keep seeing me now. Because of this connection we have, it's easier for me to interact with you than it is for the others. That's why they can't appear for very long."

As Aaron looked her in the eyes, he could sense that Trish was telling the truth. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did. "How do you know all this?" he asked.

Trish offered him an ironic smile. "With my death came quite a lot of clarity. And I don't mean to big universal questions, just to my life. Everything that was and, more importantly, everything that would never be was suddenly perfectly clear to me. I saw the life I would have lived had I survived the massacre. And you were right in the middle of it.

"And I wasn't the only one who saw it either," she added. "My dad saw it too. So did my step-mom. They both thought it was insane until you showed up here on the island," she added with a small chuckle.

Aaron's head was reeling. He turned and walked over to a fallen tree and sat down. Trish walked over and sat down next to him. "I realize that this is a lot to take in. It threw me for a loop, too. Of course, for me it was coupled with me finding out that the man I thought was my soul mate was a serial killer who was in love with someone else and our whole relationship had been a sham just to lure her back to Harper's Island, so all things considered, you're handling this whole thing very well."

"That really doesn't help," Aaron said.

"Yeah, I didn't think it would," Trish said with a small smile. "It was just all I had."

"How did we meet?" Aaron asked after a moment's hesitation.

"What?"

"You tell me we're soul mates, that we had a life together. I'd kind of like to know details."

Trish nodded and smiled. "My family was out on our father's yacht when a freak wind and a bought of rough seas conspired to knock me overboard. You were nearby on your fishing boat and pulled me out of the water. It was pretty much love at first sight."

"Did we have any kids?" Aaron asked.

"I really don't feel comfortable talking about this," Trish said. "It's a life that never happened. Dwelling on it won't make it real."

"Alright," Aaron said, holding up his hands. "I'm sorry."

They sat in silence for a moment before Trish spoke up again. "We need to get moving if you're going to make the Cannery within the hour."

Aaron nodded and stood. Then he turned and offered Trish his hand. "You were wrong," he said as she took it.

"About what?" Trish asked.

"This doesn't change anything. I'm going to see this through. Even if it kills me."

"Don't joke about that," Trish said.

"I'm not joking," Aaron said, as he turned and walked away. Trish followed him and they walked the rest of the way to the Cannery in silence.

When they emerged from the woods in front of the Cannery, Trish turned to Aaron. "From here on in, you're on your own. I'll be around, but you won't be able to see me."

Aaron nodded and turned to face the Cannery. It didn't look terrible considering it hadn't been open in three years. Of course when you consider that three murders took place here during the last massacre, the place looked very threatening. When he finally turned back, Trish was gone.

After making sure that the pistol was loaded, Aaron took a deep breath and began to walk to the front door of the now abandoned bar.


	28. The Cannery

Author's note: Ok, so I know it's been a REALLY long time since I've done anything with this story, so I don't know how many of you are still around, but if you are, I'd like to apologize for the delay in updating. I hope to continue to update and eventually finish this story in a timely manner. And I'd also like to thank you for your patience.

* * *

When Aaron entered The Cannery, he was met by the smell of dust. And no wonder, as the place looked like no one had cleaned it in years—probably because it hadn't. He could just make out a dark spot in the floor a few feet away, no doubt a leftover from the massacre. Swallowing hard, he took a step forward, raising the pistol as he did so.

"Alright, you bastard," he said, hearing a confidence in his voice that he didn't quite feel. "You wanted me here and now you've got me. So come out and show yourself."

As if in response to his demand, the lights in the café slowly started clicking on. A whirring from the corner caused Aaron to turn around, where he saw that the jukebox had come on as well. He could see a record being placed on the tray and soon the first haunting chords of Bon Jovi's _Wanted Dead or Alive_ began to fill the café.

"Is this why you brought me here?" Aaron called out. "To play more games? To get inside my head? Because I've got news for you, you're already in there. So come on out and let's get this over with."

"Well that's not what I want," said a voice from behind him. "At least, not yet."

Aaron spun around and raised the pistol, pointing it at the hooded figure standing in a doorway behind the bar which Aaron assumed led to the kitchen. "So what do you want?" he asked.

"To talk," the man said with a shrug. "So you can put that pistol away, because you're not going to need it."

Aaron kept the pistol raised for another minute, debating his options. Finally he said, "I'll lower my gun when you lower your hood."

The man nodded and reached up, sliding the hood off of his head and shaking his hair free. "Is that better?" he asked.

Aaron lowered the pistol and stared at the man before him. "Michael?" he asked. "Is it really you?"

"More or less," Michael said with a smirk. And indeed it was. Michael James looked like he'd aged ten or twelve years. His hair was considerably longer than Aaron remembered it, reaching the collar of his shirt and there was two or three days' worth of stubble on his chin. On top of that, his face was pale and drawn and there were several overlapping scars on his left cheek.

"What the hell happened to you?" Aaron asked.

"Wakefield," Michael said with a small smile. "He happened to me. You would not believe what he's done for me."

"I might if you tell me," Aaron said, taking a few cautious steps toward his friend. "Tell me what he did."

Michael said nothing, but walked across the room to the jukebox. He reached behind it and pulled the plug from the wall, cutting the song off as it finished the first chorus. "I never did like that song," he said as he turned around.

"Michael," Aaron said, walking closer to his friend. "Tell me what Wakefield did to you."

Michael let out a chuckle and shook his head. "Not _to _me, Aaron," he said. "_For _me. He saved me. Showed me the way to make my life better."

Aaron's eyes narrowed as an uneasy feeling began to rise inside of him. "What do you mean?" he asked as he took a reflexive step back.

"He gave me the power to set myself free," Michael said, as though it should have been obvious. "See, he found me on the beach four years ago. Dad too, I guess, though I didn't find out he was alive until later. He took me into the tunnels and held me prisoner there."

"And that set you free?" Aaron asked skeptically.

"No, that came later," Michael said as he started to pace around the room. "But he kept offering me a choice. Every day, he came in and offered me the chance to escape. Not just his prison, but the prison that I'd placed myself in by allowing everyone to take advantage of me. People like you, for example"

"What are you talking about?" Aaron asked. "I never took advantage of you."

"Sure you did," Michael said. "You led me on. Used my friendship to justify weaseling your way into my father's good graces. Convinced my sister that you were a better brother. Took my family from me."

"Where the hell is this coming from?" Aaron asked. "Sure your family liked me, but they never thought I was a better son or brother. They _loved _you."

Michael let out a harsh laugh. "Oh please," he scoffed. "My parents never loved me. Not like they loved you. You were the boy they took pity on, the child who could do no wrong. Never mind that _I _was the one they gave birth to, their flesh and blood. No, it was always you."

Aaron took a deep breath to keep his temper in check, then said, "Okay, I don't know what Wakefield told you while he had you down in the tunnels, but it's all crap. He was trying to break you before he killed you."

"Then why am I standing here?" Michael said. "If all he wanted to do was kill me, why bother playing mind games with me? For that matter, why bother taking me off that beach at all? Why not leave me there and let someone on the island find me? Given he was planning a large scale massacre at the time, he probably would have been better off leaving me there."

"So what was his end game?" Aaron asked. "And how the hell did he know anything about you or your family?"

"Apparently he had been watching me for years," Michael said. "He was planning on kidnapping me and bringing me here anyway. My washing up on that beach just saved him a trip to Seattle. Because, you see Aaron," he said with an evil grin, "I had a part to play in his plot for revenge against the Mills family."

"And what sort of role was that?" Aaron asked.

"I was his escape plan," Michael said. "He was going to use me to get off the island and start over again."

"How was that supposed to work?" Aaron asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

"He was going to take my body," Michael said. "Transfer his soul into me and just walk out, passing himself off as another survival of the massacre. That was his plan anyway. But he didn't count on a couple of things."

"What things?" Aaron asked, genuinely interested.

"Henry for one," Michael said. "Wakefield had a really bad case of tunnel vision where his kid was concerned, and it really came back to bite him in the ass. But you already know all that, since Henry couldn't control Abby like he thought he could. What you don't know is the other wrench that got thrown into Wakefield's plan: Me.

"You see, Aaron," he continued, "I had no intention of letting Wakefield simply take my body and using it for his own means. Not when I had so much to do with the strength his soul could give me. And the things I learned from his memories once he was in here were interesting, to say the least," he added with a chuckle as he tapped the side of his head. "They helped me put together this revenge plot I've got going against you."

Aaron continued to watch Michael walk around the room, growing more uneasy as the story continued. He was no longer sure where this was going, nor was he sure he wanted to find out, but he found himself unable to ask Michael to stop. After a moment he took a deep breath and asked, "What did you learn?"

Michael stopped circling at a spot a few feet from the door and stared at the crossbeam above him for a moment before looking back to Aaron, a small grin on his face. "You remember Shane Pierce?" he asked. "Wakefield strung him up from this crossbeam after stabbing him. Not much of a loss there," he smirked as he walked toward Aaron.

"Wakefield didn't just kill people Aaron. He took their lives. Everything that they were, everything that they were ever going to become, all snuffed out in an instant," he said, snapping his fingers for added emphasis. "That's power. Power you could only imagine. I mean, think about it. Think about what each of those people who died here three years ago would be doing now if they had lived through that week."

He looked back at the crossbeam. "Shane probably would still be fishing the bay, resenting tourists, and bitching about life on the island to anyone who would give him the time of day." He shrugged and turned back to Aaron. "Like I said, no great loss. Trish Wellington, on the other hand, is someone whose life I would like to have seen. I mean, with her money and family connections? Who knows where she could have ended up?"

_I do, _Aaron thought, the reality of what Michael was talking about setting in. _I know where she would have ended up._ He didn't say anything, but kept looking at the rafter where Shane had died, as Michael continued to talk.

"So that's what Wakefield did," he said, walking back over to Aaron. "And what I have done tonight several times over. But it's more than just the lives we take. It's all the lives they had—and would have—touched. How do think Miss Mills will handle life now that her knight in shining armor is dead?" he asked, walking around Aaron. "Not that she's going to have long to deal with it," he added with a smirk.

"Any particular reason why she wouldn't?" Aaron asked, turning to face his friend. "I'm the one you want, right? So here I am."

Michael laughed. "Oh, that is so sweet," he said. "You thought you could save them all by turning yourself over to me." He shook his head and reached into the pocket of his sweatshirt. "No, Aaron. Everyone on this island is going to die. And you will be forced to live with that."

Then, before Aaron could respond, Michael pulled a rag out of his pocket and shoved it over the fisherman's nose and mouth, his free hand grabbing the back of his head and forcing Aaron's face into the rag. Aaron caught the sharp smell of some kind of chemical before everything went black.


End file.
